


The Time Between

by filthybonnet, lionessamiele



Category: Hannibal (2001), Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins Movies), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris, Hannibal Rising (2007), The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
Genre: Breakfast in Bed, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:39:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7800415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthybonnet/pseuds/filthybonnet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessamiele/pseuds/lionessamiele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The adventures of Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter starting at the house on the Chesapeake going through before Barney sees them at the opera in the last chapter of "Hannibal."  Please note this is originally a role play that has been organized into chapters but it will still read like a role play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Returning

**Author's Note:**

> Lionessamiele and I started this role play thread on Tumblr in March, she RPing Clarice and I Hannibal. We enjoy this thread and it shows no sigh of stopping. We have gained several fans of the thread and a few have expressed the difficulty of trying to read it from the beginning due to Tumblr's formatting. Since I copied and pasted all our writing into a Word Document as we went, I came up with the idea to organize it into chapters, clean it up and publish it here on AO3. In doing this our fans can read the story/thread from the beginning. 
> 
> Please note that despite organizing it into chapters, this will still read like a role play. If you are interested in reading this thread as it goes, our other RP threads and/or our RP threads with other players feel free to check out our Tumblrs:
> 
> Clarice Starling: Lionessamiele @ http://lionessamiele.tumblr.com/
> 
> Hannibal Lecter: Cemetery Mink @ http://cemetery-mink.tumblr.com/

Hannibal looked up from the book he was trying to read upon hearing the front door open. Clarice entered; face flushed, she smiled at him. “I’ve been worried, Clarice,” he said. “You’ve been gone all day; you didn’t take your cellular with you.” Hannibal motioned for her to sit next to him on the couch. “Jack Crawford’s obituary, you saw it over my shoulder on the FBI website. It’s why you spent the whole day out. We need to talk about it.”

The smile that greeted fell away and Clarice’s grip tightened over the shells she’d collected as some sort of distraction to the news. The first admission he voiced was a surprise. _Hannibal Lecter_ of all people had been worried. This, _all of this_ , was new to her and she still felt in wonder. Was this all a dream? Could all end by waking up?  
Sandy shoes are left at the front door and Clarice padded quietly over plush carpet to take the seat next to Hannibal. When she stepped out of the house that morning, with Jack Crawford on her mind, she walked along the shore and the thought that she could run presented itself. The sad fact was, with Jack dead, her reason to return to her old life boiled down to only Ardelia, but Clarice had every reason to explore this new life presented to her. Hannibal’s worry was proof of that.

Hannibal noted something was in her hand but it did not interest him as much as her accent, “Your accent is always more pronounced when talking about things of the heart, things of the past.” He shifted on the couch turning to face her, “I was worried because Jackie Boy’s death should not have had that effect on you. The man did nothing but manipulate and use you for his own means. And for the news of his death to send you into a frenzy, away from me with no knowledge of where you went, when you’d be back…if you’d be back...”

He turned away from Clarice and grabbed the bottom cushions tight. Yes he was a psychiatrist, but allowing himself to be vulnerable with somebody was still new for him. Dr. Lecter was a man used to having all the power. Special Agent Starling denied him this when she entered that basement over seven years ago. Dr. Lecter had met his match and from that moment he knew his life would never be the same, that he would never be the same.

While he was trying very hard, Hannibal Lecter was also an older man and when frustrated would instantly resort to his old ways. As Clarice fled out that door that morning, it slammed shut. _The barn door. MISCHA!_ There she went. Another female he loved gone.

“Don’t go in the kitchen,” Hannibal continued to look away. “I didn’t clean up the tea cups.”

His assessment about her accent was valid. The twang ever present during their talks about Mischa or her Daddy as they gazed at the soft glow of a candle flickering against a teapot. His gentle words coaxing her to relax and allow him to tell her intimate details about a girl long lost and hoping to fulfill in her. Those dreams dashed, but not wrongly; only replaced by another equal and perhaps grander offer.

Clarice wanted to scoff at his bitter words about ‘Jackie boy’ but didn’t, and the suggestion of a frenzy annoyed as much as being called hysterical. It was true, her feelings about Jack were labile and moving with seamless honesty between hero worship and betrayal. He was a man who sat on an undeserved and broken pedestal only slightly beneath her father. The truth hurt and she knew the truth lay somewhere in the middle. Had it not been for his mood perhaps Hannibal would have seen it too. Even this man everyone labeled a monster had limits. Those limits were oh so more clear now outside of the confines of Chilton’s dungeon as he allowed his steel wall of protection down for Clarice - the one comprised of verbal assaults and crude one-up-manships of his intelligence. At the heart of it all, he was still harboring the shattered boy clinging to his painful loss. She wouldn’t argue over an underlying issue without knowing it better. She knew the issues’s name was Mischa, but not the gory details.

He had told her she was the one that surprised him. The nurtured chrysalis with no idea what would emerge but the same could be said for her experience. She had no idea what horrors rumbled the floor boards of his memory palace casting shadows where even **he** dared not tread.

Jack wasn’t the right topic to discuss, not now.

The shells found a place on the coffee table then, in a simple gesture, her hand rested lightly on top of his tense one gripping the couch cushion. Her jaw flexed as lips pressed together unsure how to deal with this unexpected turn. She could be soft too.

“I am back,” she assured him, “and **_I_** decided to come back.” Her hand squeezed his lightly and a steady exhale through her nose accentuated the squeeze. “Now let me help you clean up the kitchen and then we’ll talk about Jack.”

_Hannibal Lecter_ would require baby steps.

This was not the response Hannibal prepared for, but this was his Clarice: ever unpredictable no matter what he whispered to that chrysalis. His grip on the couch cushion relaxed with her touch; he turned his hand and laced his fingers with hers. Dr. Lecter knew this wasn’t about Jack Crawford; Clarice had every right to mourn the man, for better and worse he was a part of her life. He helped her set up a room in her Memory Palace for Jack after all. 

This was really about him and they both knew it. Dr. Lecter knew someday he would open the cellar door of his Memory Palace and let Clarice see what broke the boy, damaged the man and made the monster. But that wasn’t tonight. 

Hannibal took a deep breath and turned to face her again, bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed it lightly. He maintained his grip on her hand.

“Mischa is my mess; I’ll clean up the kitchen. After all, it is you Clarice who walked back through that door this evening.” He stood and pulled Clarice up with him. He smiled at her, “However your presence is required there. I trust you can sauté chicken.” 

As simple as the turn of his hand, her doctor returned. The warm caress of his finger over that very spot on her index finger made her heart race like it had in Tennessee. Clarice wasn’t all together sure if it was for a completely different reasons or not. A coy smile making an appearance on her lips with the brush of his mouth on her hand.

She thought if Jack could see her now his heart couldn’t have taken it. His passing gave her a certain freedom and she knew that as well.

“I might have only been trained by the FBI and not the CIA,” she was finally able to scoff teasingly at him. It was a terrible pun. Worse than turning Chilton’s name to shit brown. “But I’m capable enough to sauté chicken to a nice golden brown. You know you’ll have to let me cook for _you_ some time.” She wondered briefly if that vexed him more than his possible recapture.


	2. Breast Man

The Doctor led her to the kitchen where they were greeted with the evidence of his earlier fit, the shards of two tea cups. At this rate there would be no cups for their morning coffee. He left Clarice in the doorway and headed to the pantry, around the tea cups. He came back out with the broom and dustpan. Hannibal sat the dust pan on the floor and swiftly pushed the shards into it, ashamed. Ashamed that Clarice had to see this, slightly mortified at himself that in his panic over her leaving he reverted to the idea that if he’d succeeded in replacing her with Mischa she wouldn’t have left. 

The last of the shards in the dustpan, he stepped on the pedal opening the wastebasket lid and emptied it. Dr. Lecter returned the items to the pantry and grabbed his apron. He might not have been ready to vocalize but he thought he could atone for his feelings with actions.

“So you want to cook for me, Clarice?” Hannibal walked back over Clarice, his maroon eyes bright, a smirk on his face. He draped the apron opening over her head. It came down too low to protect most of her shirt. “There are a couple of stipulations. You have to use the chicken since that was the meat already planned and we can’t let it spoil. Though being a good country girl, I’m sure you have a fried chicken recipe rattling around up there somewhere. If not, you know where my recipe cards and books are.” He took her chin into his hand, “Or enthrall me, Clarice, come up with something new and different! You also get to pick the wine; white goes with chicken. However I reserve the right to veto ad make a different selection.” He let go of her chin and headed towards one of the stools at the kitchen island before pausing and turning back around, “And one more thing, I’m in charge of dessert.” 

Feet stayed affixed to the spot in the doorway until the floor is swept clean. Every movement fastidious, like he’d cleaned that same scenario of shattered cups a thousand times in his life. The broom, the dustpan, every movement associated coming far too easy for him.

Of course, for Clarice, she didn’t want to step on a shard in her bare feet. She knew she could request slippers, even duplicate bunny one’s, and he’d obtain them for her, but living here at the Chesapeake shore, she liked being able to go barefoot despite the cold winter as it dissipated into spring.

Her head dipped allowing him to drape the apron over her neck and straighten it over her lithe form. Clarice looked to him again and smiled sheepishly at the care he showed.

“You are welcome to dessert,” she countered with a snicker, “but my stipulation is that it must match dinner in it’s simplicity, and nature as comfort food.”

Clarice went to the pantry and collected what she needed before stopping by the fridge and gathering the remaining items. With everything on the counter she turned back to the doctor perched happily on his stool. “I’d say a Sauvignon blanc, but I don’t know a damn Sunday dinner that ever occurred at my Nana’s house with fried chicken that was served with wine. It was iced tea or coffee for the adults and lemonade for my brothers and I.”

She turned after saying her peace and dug through the cabinets for what she needed next, and not finding it, she turned and looked at the doctor, “ _you_ damn well know I need a well seasoned cast iron skillet, you got one, or do I have to go with plan B?”

“Clarice, what kind of cook would I be without a cast iron skillet?” Dr. Lecter gracefully slid off the stool and over to the cabinet above the fridge. He opened one side and pulled down what she was looking for. “It might not be as well seasoned as you wish but hopefully it shall suffice.” He walked past her and sat it on the large burner. 

He returned to his perch and watched Clarice work intently trying to copy her Nana’s recipe off of old childhood memories the same way he originally copied his mother’s. However at this point Hannibal knew he was too young to completely remember them as his mother made them and modifications made them his. Would she come to the same conclusion? It didn’t really matter, this is a happy memory. 

The various herbs, spices and oil were a pleasant aroma to Hannibal. He removed himself from the stool again and slid up behind Clarice as she stood in front of the stove. He placed his hands on her shoulders, massaging them gently, “That smells amazing, Clarice.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “However your wine choice is wrong. Believe it or not, Champagne is a perfect pairing for fried chicken. But I have a feeling the bottle of Dom Perignon I have will be too damn fancy for your taste for this meal. Instead I will go with the second best pairing; a nice Riesling.”

Hannibal let go of her shoulders and walked over to the cupboard to remove plates to set the table, “I believe you’ll find its sweetness reminiscent of the lemonade of your youth but with the added sophistication of the life we’ll continue to build together.” 

Clarice examined the skillet he set on the stove top. She glimpsed at a rough reflection of herself in the bottom of them pan. It gave her the slightest suggestion of a halo with the lighting overhead and made her smile. His pan was better seasoned than he was willing to admit. Things had changed significantly from that initial meeting and a sense of relaxing calm filled her.

She got the oil hot and ready for the now prepped chicken while the side dish of potato salad chilled in the fridge. The pieces of the chicken slipped into the oil with a sizzle and the light massage of his hands and the tender kiss made her smile. His comment about the right wine made her shrug. She didn’t care too much, but he was correct on the selection between the two, and would prefer sweet over a Brut champagne any day. Clarice would rather drink what she liked instead, but was willing to give his pairing skills a chance to _enthrall_ her in return.

“Well…I’m feeling a little bit dry after that long walk,” glancing at him over her shoulder as he set the table. Her hand effortlessly turning the golden chicken, “how about you pour us glasses so we can start that ‘building together’ out right. I’m sure we’ll find a reason for champagne soon enough.”

_Like stargazing on the sand later tonight,_ she thought. She wanted him to point out those shared stars.

“Well, if you’re feeling a bit dry, a glass of water is the first order,” Hannibal said as he returned to the kitchen. He removed the pitcher of water from the fridge and poured a tall glass of water. He sat it on the counter next to the stove. He then poured himself a glass of water before returning the pitcher and pulling out her bowl of potato salad. He took these to the table and with his body hiding Clarice’s view of the bowl; he gave into temptation and did what he considered rude. He lifted one of the forks from the place setting and took a small bite of her potato salad. It was simple in its ingredients, a bit bland for his taste but not unpleasant. He took another bite to confirm his first conclusion. However, the chicken smelt amazing and that was what he was looking forward to. Its aroma was suddenly closer and he turned fork still in hand.

There stood Clarice, platter of chicken held between both hands a sly smile on her face. A bachelor all his life, Dr. Lecter was not used to being caught or sharing such little moments. He had had lovers but they were only allowed into the foyer of his Memory Palace and only after he had prepped the room. Clarice was allowed to open doors and go into rooms, cobwebs and all. Despite welcoming such vulnerability, Hannibal didn’t know how to deal with it or respond to it like a normal person.

“It is not unpleasant, Clarice,” Dr. Lecter sat the fork down, straightening his back, holding his head high. “I see the chicken is ready. I’ll go get the wine.” 

Clarice’s eyes fell on the tall glass of water, and she gave it a long hard look. She didn’t pick it up, or bother to drink. It’s not what she wanted and he knew that full well. Eyes fluttered shut momentarily.

_Teach me to be still._

She plated the piping hot chicken and came up behind him just as he was sneaking a bite of her potato salad. A brow rose. His comment caused it to lower again.

_It’s not fucking **unpleasant ?**_

She looked at him sternly; a withering look. The quality of her Nana’s potato salad was not up for debate. The chicken made it to the table and she watched Hannibal return from the wine fridge with the Riesling and two glasses.

“I know it sounds counter intuitive, but you can’t eat it cold right out of the fridge. It needs to warm a bit so the flavor of the green onion, sour cream, sweet pickle relish and mustard can be adequately savored. The cold masks it.”

Clarice took a seat at the place he set for her at the table and waited for Hannibal to join her before serving him a prime piece of chicken, the breast. A small smirk finally curling her lips at her selection.

Hannibal thought about the contorted muscles on Clarice’s face, a look between anger and disappointment as he got the wine and glasses. She was sharing a happy childhood memory by sharing her Grandmother’s potato salad and here he had wounded it with his truth. But he wanted nothing to be truthful with her, even if it meant pain. 

He returned to the dining room and sat the glasses down before pushing the wine opener into the cork, “Did you know the Germans have a wine even sweeter than the Rieslings? It’s called Ice Wine because they do not harvest the grapes until after the first freeze. The grapes produce more sugar to fight the cold hence they are sweeter. It’s usually served with dessert.” The bottle open, The Doctor poured two glasses, sitting one in front of Clarice’s place setting before sitting down with his.

Hannibal watched as Clarice sat the breast on his plate and the smirk on her lips that followed and he followed that information away for after dinner. Upon finishing his last bite of potato salad Hannibal spoke, “You were right, Clarice. It was much better not as chilled. But if I may be honest, it will never be my favorite. However your fried chicken was fantastic.” 

He wiped his hands on his cloth napkin before walking over and standing behind her. “My compliments to the chef,” he leaned over and whispered in her ear. He placed his hand on one of her shoulder before quickly running it down her chest, cupping one of her breasts, “Thank you for that prime piece of meat, Clarice. You know exactly what I like. Come, join me on the porch let us digest a little before dessert.” 

It took a while to overcome her initial defensiveness regarding dinner, but it dawned on Clarice that Hannibal Lecter refused to cow to her and lie just to soothe her ego. It wasn’t so fragile as to not take some genuine criticism. She knew her opinion was biased. She _was_ only human.

Hands sunk deep into warm sudsy water and quickly cleaned up the few dishes that didn’t fit into dishwasher. She was drying her hands when Hannibal whispered his words of praise in her ear and it warmed her heart more than she had imagined.

Eyes lowered and lids fluttered shut to relish that little bit of praise. It was the warm cupping of his hand that made her breath catch in her throat. A soft “mm” followed escaping through her lips.

He left her there leaning against the sink. A long exhale and a moment to gather herself. She could be surprised too. She needed that. Clarice shed the apron and hung it on its hook before making it out to the porch.

“Did you want to discuss Jack Crawford now?” The tension from earlier, gone, but in it’s wake the possibility for a frank discussion about the man.


	3. Under Our Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for those who have read and left kudos! If any of you are feeling brave enough to leave reviews we would really appreciate it!

Clarice was always frank and cut right to the chase. Dr. Lecter took his maroon eyes off of the evening sky and turned to her. He lifted his hands from his lap and leaned in, placing his palms on her temples as he did in their therapy sessions. However this time he took the liberty lacing his fingers through her hair. It was so silky soft, he’d yearned to touch it again since their first night passionate love making; when Clarice turned their already sideways relationship on its head by offering her breast.

Hannibal spoke in low soothing tones, “Jack Crawford is dead, Clarice. Like your father, what you need of Crawford is in here. Visit him here, where it is always on your terms, where you can close and lock the door on that room of your Memory Place when you are done. He is not allowed to haunt our present.” He let go of her temples and ran his fingers through her hair letting it cascade back down. His loins stirred. _So tired of talking, so very tired of talking._ “I personally feel there is nothing left to discuss on the matter.” 

The Doctor lifted his arm and wrapped it around Clarice’s waist pulling her right against his body. With his other hand, Hannibal caressed her thigh. His face only inches from hers he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Here at the end of the day Clarice smelt of many things, the herbs of the fried chicken, hints of sea salt from her walk lingered in her hair, still a touch of almond soap and her own pheromones. He smiled large as he exhaled and opened his eyes, looking into hers. “I hope you feel the same so we could concentrate on us. So much lost time to make up for, so many rooms to build in our own palace.”

His arousal grew. Hannibal had all but forgotten how consuming it could be. In this moment he wanted nothing more than to throw Clarice down onto his bed and ravish her like he was some sort of hero out of a dime romance novel. But he wouldn’t, at least not until she was satisfied with the end of this conversation.

The press of his palms on her temples was near Pavlovian in her response. So many times he’d used the technique to quell her anxiety and help her relax. She did so almost automatically. Clarice’s eyes fell closed and her mind whisked through her still quite compact memory palace. Hannibal had told her that the size of the structure didn’t matter. Every nook and cranny could be exploited by the mind. Expanded indefinitely. She’d chosen her childhood farmhouse home with some fanciful additions like a magnificent barn and pasture with a trail that even led to her old stomping grounds, the Shenandoah National Park where she had liked to run.

Crawford sat at an old letter desk in the attic that was lit by natural light streaming through one of those round windows near the eves of the home. He looked up at Starling, weary from life.

_You got him Starling? You can bring him in._

_I’ve found a better way, Sir. A middle ground._

Crawford smiled bitterly, but didn’t argue, he already knew, and just turned his face toward the light. Starling quietly closed the door to the attic and opened her eyes to gaze softly at Hannibal.

Clarice had come to a reckoning with her feelings when it came to the FBI and Jack Crawford. Perhaps Hannibal had seen it first during all their long talks. Jack and his obsession that lay people in harms way and destroyed many before her, crumbled and disabled by despair or even death at a need to obtain that fatherly approval. Clarice had nearly met that fate herself in the pitch black basement being chased by a man wearing nothing but the skin of his victims. The FBI in all their wisdom and man-hunting glory could be no better than man beside her now when you tallied both the willful and not so willful collateral damage over the years. In that light, the scaled tipped in Hannibal’s favor, her own ruined career added to heap on the FBI’s side. She could walk away with no regret.

The look of contentment curved up into a soft smile when his arm pulled her close. Her gaze fell on his lips when he spoke. The perfectly square and aligned teeth mesmerizing. Tantalizing to know what they were capable of as memories of the footage of the attack on the nurse flipped like an old movie though her mind, but she didn’t feel fear. Clarice felt curious instead.  
Their first intimate contact had _not_ begun with a kiss and she did not remember one, at-least in any normal sense when it came to courting, _if_ courting and Hannibal Lecter mentioned in the same sentence could ever be chalked up as something so mundane.

“I can see him when I need to,” sounding absolutely sure, “and you’re right…there are far more important curiosities to satisfy.”

Her lids lowered to to look at him from below dark lashes. The pause only a second after she finished speaking. Clarice leaned in and pressed lightly parted lips to his own. Her movement felt as if in slow motion, her mouth catching his lower lip between hers. Eyes closed fully as the simple press of lips, loaded with meaning, lasted only three heart beats.

It took her breath away.

The kiss was almost chaste, but powerful in meaning. When Clarice pulled away there was a soft, satisfied smile on her face. If he didn’t know better Dr. Lecter would have said she is mine in this moment. But he knew this Starling would not be caged and this scared him. A man used to getting his way, Hannibal built her a large and beautiful gilded cage that ended up holding him prisoner. Day by day during their therapy sessions Clarice became freer, he shoved a bit more into that cage. She didn’t want to be his sister and there was no way this woman would want to be his lover with her wings now healed, right? 

But after she told him he didn’t have to give _her_ breast up, the bars from that gilded cage dropped around him. And now the last remaining few gave to the wayside. This Starling was here of her own free will, she came back to him and he would have to trust that would always be the case, even if it was scary.

Hannibal lifted his hand off of her thigh and cradled one side of her head. He leaned and met her lips with his slightly parted. The Doctor pushed a little harder and opened his mouth a little wider; she reciprocated. A slight moan tickled his throat at her response. Clarice’s hands wandered over to his body, he turned so she had better grip of the collar of his shirt. He lifted his hand off her face and gently placed it on the breast he cupped earlier. He caressed it lightly through her blouse and once the nipple was peaked focusing his attention on that. Clarice’s breathing pattern changed and the kiss became more forceful; her fingers now fumbling and unbuttoning the top buttons on his shirt. He was now aware that his own heartbeat was elevated, slightly above its notorious 85. The arousal in his pants was now slowly forming into an erection. He pulled his mouth away from Clarice’s surprised to find her teeth hanging onto his lower lip.

“I thought you should know, don’t have anything planned for dessert…” his other hand was now on her waist and pulled her onto his lap, so that she was straddling him. The pressure and warmth of her body on his added to his growing firmness and Hannibal knew she felt it. He kissed the nape of her neck as he wrapped his arms tight around her, “That doesn’t include you.”

The kiss was defining.

A seal on the decision to stay and be with _Hannibal_ willingly. “Oh,” she exhaled with the revelation. This. Her. Them. It excited her and scared him.

It was only rational. He had tried to convince her to give up her place for Mischa when his was just a good. He balked. Clarice made her offer clear, and he accepted readily not knowing the full consequences.

The idea that Hannibal Lecter could be scared intrigued the ex-agent. When did that fear start? Did he breathe a sigh of relief to learn she emerged from Jame Gumb’s basement, or was this a recent development when she walked out of this house this morning threatening to never return?

“Oh!?” The second soft questioning exclamation having to do with the press of his growing erection against her inner thigh. Her hand swept in a light caress over his cheek. Not _too_ scared. A pleased smile curled the corners of coral lips.

“Sometimes we’re hungry for other things,” a leading breathy taunt as she leaned in and let her lips brush his ear, “I want you right here. Under our stars, Hannibal.” Mouth trailing over the pounding pulse in his neck. To know she could elevate his pulse was powerful and Clarice gave a single salacious roll of her hips to heighten his arousal more.

“ _Our_ stars?” The words dropped out of Hannibal’s mouth showing more surprise then he wanted to. He held onto one of her shoulders and used a finger of the other to trace her spine up and down. The Doctor leaned in resting his cheek against hers as she gently kissed his pulse point. “My first letter to you…you still remember all these years later.” _Of course she did._

He returned his lips to her, passionately and forcefully, this new revelation giving him a boost of confidence. How many times had she read his letter before turning it over to Jack? Enough times to memorize it. How many nights did she look at Orion and think of him, not as the killer on the lam but as the man she connected with? And his second letter…to think she might have imagined scenarios, transactions…fucking with him. He pushed his groin up into her and Clarice rolled her hips again to match his movement. Hannibal pulled away, tilted his head back and groaned. His pants grew more restrictive around his erection.

“Oh Clarice,” he ran his hands up her sides. “Here on the porch? Isn’t that bit garish? Wouldn’t you prefer me to carry you inside where it’s private and I can ravish you on the comfortable bed?” 

A sharp intake of breath accompanied the little thrust enjoying the shock wave of delight it sent reverberating through her core. So eager, but so reserved. There wasn’t a soul for miles and his first thought was that having sex on the front porch of secluded house, in the dark no less, was garish. A smirk whipped across her lips so fast her cheeks ached. Clarice was sure it wouldn’t take much convincing. Likely a firm ‘no’ and refusal to budge would suffice but why stop there.

“How could I forget, but sex in bed, again, so mundane, doctor. We did it there the first time.” Sounding bored with the idea of it being the same twice in a row. Her weight sinking firmly down onto his lap; her eyes piercing into his unblinking. Without even glancing down her fingers swiftly undid his belt and trousers freeing him from some of the restriction.

“Would you like it better if we darted over there to the car to the back seat?” The words coming out breathy but with an underlying sharp edge. She remembered all of it. And while he seemed to flounder his wit, her boldness grew by leaps and bounds. Her gaze broke with his as she leaned in again, the whisper a rumble in his ear. “I know you’re already imagining that scenario. I bet it’s a little less _tedious_ than your first imaginings.”

His cock quivered a little as Clarice came in contact with it as she undid his pants. “How disappointing your past lovers must have been for you to need a different location the second time,” his breathing was labored. He took her head into his hands gently caressing her temples with her thumbs, not like their therapy sessions, he wanted her to know he was serious. His maroon eyes burned into hers, “Nothing will ever be tedious about us, Clarice. I will always enthrall you, satisfy you. New locations will be curiosities, not because the bedroom has lost its stimulation. But if you want to make love under our stars, here and now is the time. Besides I’m not a teenage boy, I refuse to fumble in the back of a compact car. I did not even do that when I _was_ a teenage boy.”

At the mention of his being a teenager, Hannibal closed his eyes and tried to run past that door of his Memory Palace, but he caught a glimpse of the kimono between the crack of the door and the floor. 

_“I see you’re going for younger now,” She was the only one brave enough to talk to him through the door._

_He leaned against the door, “But she’s strong like you; a warrior.”_

_He heard her hand on the handle, “I guess I was wrong about you, Hannibal. She found something still inside you to love where I couldn’t. Will you tell her about me…about us?”_

_He pulled on his side of the handle, signaling for her to let go, “Someday.”_

Hannibal opened his eyes and smiled at Clarice, “Yes, under our stars.” Hannibal moved his hands down to the bottom of her cashmere blouse, grabbing and pulling it over her head. The blouse descended to the porch floor as each of The Doctor’s hands took a breast. He tenderly caressed them, rolling the firm nipples, his pleasure heightening from watching Clarice close her eyes, little whimpers escape her mouth. He removed one of his hands from one breast, wrapping that arm her waist as he bent over bringing his lips to that taut nipple and sucked. He wasn’t giving it up. 

“Of course you didn’t,” the response dry when referring to his teenage years, but it did make her curious. She was sure his story deviated from the norm. Everything about him did, and likely always would.

She didn’t doubt one bit his promise to be a lover that would satisfy her and take her to fantastic heights.

He was capable, and she was willing.

He’d proven himself very well the first time. She may have started standing with him kneeling at her feet, but she had lay like a puddle on the bed after his dedicated efforts to have her achieve multiple orgasms.

His assessment about past lovers wasn’t completely without merit. Some good, some terrible, too many selfish men that only spent a single night in her bed. Perhaps she should have given Brigham a chance, it would have made his passing no less heart wrenching than it was.

A soft sigh as his mouth covered what she has already deemed as ‘his breast’. The one that lured him with a delicate quivering drop of wine suspended on her erect nipple. It took no liquid encouragement this time once the cashmere barrier was whisked away. A hand snaked between them and slipped under the waistband of his boxers to caress his hardened length.  
“Enthrall me under our stars then,” she nearly pleaded as her arm cradled his head to her breast, as if the entire sky was theirs. A soft needy exhale rumbled the back of her throat awaiting sure hands that would bring her to ecstasy not so far from where they first met.

Her fingers combing through his hair, her rushing heartbeat, the warmth of her body, how soothing and titillating he found sucking on her nipple all at once; the fact that she put all of this together about him: this was comfort, this was love. This was true human connection and what had been missing from his life for so long. He moaned against her flesh as her hand found its way into his boxers and fingers stroked him.

With her plea to be enthralled, Hannibal helped her to her feet, sliding the matching cashmere lounge pants and her panties gently to her ankles. He finished undoing the buttons on his shirt and it fluttered to the floor. He pushed his undone pants and boxes down as she stepped out of her discarded clothes. The Doctor pulled Clarice close to him, kissing her gently as he slid a few fingers between her legs. Using his index and ring fingers to spread her folds slightly, his middle found her clit and rubbed it. She was already decently wet and aroused. She pulled away from his lips, a slight pant escaping her throat.

Hannibal wasn’t going to be cruel and make her knees weak while standing. He sat back down on the bench that was thankfully padded. Clarice smiled large as she climbed back on his lap. He returned his fingers between her thighs circling her clit. She grabbed his shoulders bracing herself, closing her eyes, gasping for breath as she started to build toward orgasm.  
He enjoyed seeing her in the grip of pleasure, “Remember, Clarice there is no rush; enjoy this one. And when you’re ready, I’ll take you.”

Clarice moaned a response that lacked any semblance of a formed piece of speech in the English language. Lids lowered and she focused on his mouth and the soft panting breaths that passed between her own coral lips. It had started with anticipation. The rise of her arousal quick under his touch.

It was all so _glorious._

Eyes finally fluttered shut. Her body felt like it was floating, riding the waves of the ocean that crashed in the background. The air was crisp and cool with the sun down. The lights of the city less polluting of the sky in their secluded location and the newly twinkling stars blossomed in the sky. More stars magically appearing after each panting breath.

He felt like he was easily seeping into every poor and inside her, but the thought wasn’t terrifying it was invigorating. It drove her forward in search of more.

Grip tightened around his thick cock not letting up, matching the pleasure he provided in kind. It didn’t last. The constant stroke of his fingers made her hips begin to roll against him. She wanted it to last, to feel him penetrate and then spill deep while he gasped for air at the end.

Clarice decided she was ready, but she would take him. Rolling hips rose and fell and then in a singular move she drove down fast and hard engulfing him completely as her body began to shudder and a wail marking her climax issued forth.

The Doctor was not expecting her to grab his cock. The motions of her hands caused some precum to seep down his shaft and onto her fingers. Part of him wanted to apologize; he was used to getting rude people bloody, but to get Clarice Starling sticky with this fluid seemed rude no matter how much they were both enjoying it. He didn’t have long to think about it though, Clarice pulled away from his hand and with no warning took all of him inside of her in one fast motion.

_Oh God this woman! First she turns down making love in the bed, wanting it outside. And then she won’t even give me the satisfaction of taking her?_ “Clarice…” was all that came out in a groan though.

Hannibal felt her shudder as her orgasm came quick after only a few rolls of her hips against him. But that wasn’t the end, he hadn’t achieved his climax and if she achieved one more in the process so be it. He held tight onto her waist thrusting in and out of her hard from underneath. Hannibal wanted to devour her, possess her whole. 

The world around them fell away; there was just the blackness of the abyss swallowing them, Orion above them, Clarice giving him new life, carnal desires that might be insatiable. He lean back his eyes closed, his hands traveling further south, gripping her behind to help her up and down on his dick. The Doctor felt her lean forward, her arms around his neck, her breasts brushing against his chest, her cunt tightened around him. Both of their breathing was labored but after a minute Hannibal could hold back no longer. A low moan escaped his throat as he came forcefully inside her before he loudly gasped for air. 

His chest still heaved as he rested his forehead on her shoulder. “Clarice…” again was all that escaped his lips, this time in a breathless whisper. 

The way he groaned her name was _magnificent._

There was no taunt hidden there. He was hers.

Completely.

He felt better than it could ever feel to bring him in to the FBI. A powerful salve that soothed the burn left behind by her forced decent into mediocrity.

The stars above did not form knowable constellations, but were a whorl of light in this lustful moment. Strong fingers gripped her hips hard enough to bruise as she rode him. His hands moved and gripped her backside, her back ached and breasts pointed their way to the stars; her hands balanced on his knees to he’d strike the sweet spot bringing her to her climax once again as he pounded her steadily from below.

She felt him pause and spill into her deep. Another risk taken without thought to consequences. One she knew they should remedy.

Her arms loose around his neck, she brushed a kiss to his brow as he panted, and wondered how soon he’d want to _take her_ again. Perhaps that time in bed, but another position.  
Fingertips swept through the hair at his temple. “Hannibal,” she responded. Her response like a whispered prayer.


	4. The Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay between updates. We're still roleplaying this thread along with others on our blogs. We also have lives, jobs and just like to do other things as well. That said we have plans to update this more with the new year. Thank you again for reading, the comments and kudos! Also if you're on tumblr follow our blogs! And if you roleplay on tumblr hit us up!

_Hannibal._ Oh how he could get used to hearing Clarice whisper his name like that. It was as if she had been whispering it that way every time she made a wish. He kissed her collarbone as he lifted her up slightly allowing his now spent self to withdrawal. The air was cruel and cold outside of her warmth but she was here now and he could to return to her warmth whenever he wished. Daily would be fantastic. She quickly resituated herself on his lap resting her head against his shoulder, letting out a few sighs of satisfaction with each breath. 

Hannibal looked up at the sky over her shoulder as the regular world slowly returned to him. He ran his hand up and down Clarice’s toned back and smiled, he was going to have to get used working those muscles. He was scared too; part of him expected this dream to turn into his nightmare at any minute. 

A sudden breeze sent a chill down Hannibal’s nude body. He wrapped arms around tight around Clarice, “Come my Little Starling, let’s go to bed.” He slowly stood up from the bench waiting for her to object to being carried, but instead she wrapped her legs tighter around his waist. He chuckled to himself, “I see I exhausted you again.”

He took her into his bedroom laying her down gently down on the queen size bed. She still had been sleeping in her bedroom and Dr. Lecter had been respectful of that. One night of passionate sex and shared common space does not mean you are ready to share your intimate space. Besides he had his reasons not to share sleeping space as well. 

But tonight he wanted to risk it. The day had been an emotional rollercoaster for them both and he didn’t want to let her go. He pulled the covers out from Clarice before situating himself behind her and the blankets over their naked bodies.The soft light on the nightstand behind them added warmth to their afterglow. 

A single fingertip toyed with the light downy fluff of his chest. The number of silver threaded hairs out numbered severely, the few remaining dark strands nestled within. Clarice sighed a true sigh of contentment. Her thighs clamped together to prevent that gentle trickle of his seed from exiting so quickly.

She didn’t fight when he picked her up, or admonish him for not taking her to her room. She wanted this. All of him, and he was letting her in.

Willingly.

The sheets were as soft and cool as her own. Eyes fluttered shut and Clarice lay quietly on her side as her back pressed into his chest. Her hand guided his around her body in an embrace so his hand could cup her breast while they slept. Clarice could not simply go to sleep though.

“How long since you were in a relationship with someone?” The honest question unleashed quietly, sure he had found at least a warm bed during the years after his escape.

Hannibal was a little surprised that Clarice guided his hand to her breast.It wasn’t the ideal sleeping position but he wasn’t going to object. He cupped it tenderly, just enough to show affection, but not cause arousal. On her neck all he could smell was her pure pheromones, sweat and sex. He closed his eyes and inhaled deep, a large smile on his face. As he exhaled he pulled her a bit closer, he was quite ready for sleep.

_“How long since you were in a relationship with someone?”_

Dr. Lecter’s eyes flew open at Clarice’s question. Ah yes, pillow talk. Not that The Doctor was against it; in fact he usually enjoyed a good post-coital conversation. But this, this question floored him. And he couldn’t just ignore it, they were building a relationship. She knew the monster and still took a risk on the man and wanted to know everything about him. 

“What do you mean by relationship, Clarice?” There was a twinge of exasperation in his voice that he did not hide. “If you mean serious commitment, that was before I was incarcerated. Her name was Rachel DuBerry, a beautiful socialite who loved the arts.” His voice softened as he talked about Rachel, “She was rather eccentric and I enjoyed that about her. The society pages loved us together. She was one of the few who stayed in contact with me after the trial.I kept sending her letters and birthday gifts until she informed me she was engaged.” Hannibal sighed; he cupped Clarice’s breast a little tighter, hoping she was above petty jealousy of past flames. He figured she was but emotions are such fickle things.

“If you mean the last woman I fucked before you, that was six years ago. It was shortly after I settled in Florence and it was purely carnal; one more of life’s many pleasures to indulge in now that I was free. Her name was Sophia; I met her in an art gallery. It was only a couple of times; after the initial pleasure I was not interested in her. I had other interests to peruse in Florence.” He pushed his upper body up slightly onto the arm that was under him. He leaned over and kissed her neck, “And while I’m being transparent, Clarice you were on my mind. It is difficult to find a woman when I compared the ones I did meet to you.”

“I actually spoke with Rachel Duberry-Rozencrantz,” Clarice replied knowingly. The warmth of his chest at her back, his mouth on her neck, his arm wrapped protectively around her, and the presence of his seed still between her legs went a long way at solidifying her status in her own mind. She wanted to banish any thoughts that she was a consolation prize in comparison to Rachel. To hear his final words made a smile appear on her lips. It was an odd thing to be prideful of, for she tried to not be ‘prideful’ of things, but Clarice made an exception in this case.

“I think you made quite an impression on her. She had trouble accepting…the truth of why you were incarcerated. And she was… _impressed_ by you.” The classic frankness that was Clarice Starling very present in this conversation too.

_You wanted to fucking know me in private life. Enjoy._

Clarice herself wasn’t sure where Hannibal Lecter currently stood on the subject of cannibalism but it was certainly a topic that would need to be touched upon, but not necessarily now. One topic at a time would suffice.

Clarice didn’t even consider the faceless Sophia a concern. She did turn to look at him over her shoulder a bit astonished by a singular fact.

“But one thing’s for sure…six years a long time to go without.” She herself had jumped from one meaningless relationship to the next with a few month break in-between to satisfy her carnal urges. She supposed she had a string of “Sophia’s” too waiting for what, Hannibal Lecter? The revelation still surprising to her.

“Rozencrantz?” Hannibal lifted his mouth from Clarice’s neck. “That was not the last name of her fiancée all those years ago.” He chuckled, “I guess he didn’t _impress_ her like I did and she had to try again.” 

Dr. Lecter caught Clarice’s look at him over her shoulder. A mixture of confusion and disbelief. Surely a man like Dr. Hannibal Lecter, lover of life’s pleasures, wouldn’t go six years without feeding the carnal one. He pulled his body away from her just enough to help turn Clarice onto her back so he could look down at her. He removed his hand from her breast and ran the fingers gently through her hair. He smiled at her still not believing how fortunate he was.

“I went eight years when I was incarcerated, what is six more? There is more to life than carnal desires; especially after being in a cell for eight years. There was so much beauty to experience, delicious cuisine to be ate, so many sights and smells. And there are other ways to deal with carnal urges when they arise. Besides I have found sex is much more profound when there is an intellectual and emotional connection to your partner along with the physical. I would rather go without then have sex without it.”

Hannibal caught slight changes in Clarice’s face. _Is that worry, Clarice? Worry that I’m going to judge you again for having a few more tedious relationships?_

“There’s a reason past lovers are in the past, Clarice,” he moved his index finger from her hair to trace her jaw line. “You unlike the ones of my past know what I am capable of. You know there is a monster in your bed.” He continued his finger down her throat and between her breasts, “But you also saw the man behind the monster. You learned who he was and he intrigued you. You fell for him and knew you couldn’t separate the two and you wouldn’t have him any other way.” Hannibal’s finger continued down the center of her stomach and when he reached her mound of well-groomed pubic hair he ran it back up the direction it came, “And I finally have a worthy woman; one who can match me wit for wit, one don’t have hide any part of who I am.” His hand back up at her chin, Hannibal took it and held it as he leaned down and kissed her, “Shall I turn the light off now so we can go to sleep, Clarice?”

She didn’t like his dismissive explanation. She did like that he admitted she was his equal, but the rest would not do, and she needed to put an end to that shit right now. Clarice could agree with him on the fact that sex with him was heightened a thousand fold. Her previous lovers just an act of carnal need. While good, it was more of a temporary fix. A mere pittance in comparison to the bounty he provided in their first two couplings. She would not be sharing this anytime soon. His ego far too grand for his own good. It was obvious, likely to him, that he provided her with profound bliss, but there was no telling that hadn’t been the case with all of the lovers she had in her life. She could honestly care less if he was offended by her sexual exploits, he had far more pressing issues than some simple slut shaming could cover.

A thought flickered through her mind. Did knowing about him and his proclivities make him easier to accept? Did knowing and seeing the devastation of his own hands make it possible to see beyond it and ask why, and actually give him the chance to explain? A chance no one else was willing to give.

Eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed slightly as she turned to look at him in the faint lamp light that glowed from the side of the bed. “I want to make one thing clear. I don’t think you’re a monster. You’re just a man. A man that has done monstrous things, but still a man. One that is more than capable of still deciding his fate. And like any man, a single bullet or careful flick of a blade could take your life from me. But no,” she breathed out sounding tired now, “I don’t consider you a monster.”

Clarice reached back and fluffed up her pillow. She’d spoken her peace. “Now you can go on and cut off the light.”

Hannibal sat there dumbfounded. He’d gotten this part so wrong and had been so confident in it. Eating crow was something Dr. Lecter had no experience in. So many new questions lined up for his Little Starling: _Why did you stay? You know you were free to go and still are. You know these monstrous things I have done what makes you believe I won’t do them again? What do you see in me? What do you see in me still worth loving?_

He dare not speak them; Clarice had clearly marked the conversation over. He turned the lamp off and curled up behind her, listening to her breathing shallow as she fell asleep. However as she drifted off into which he hoped were still dreams free of screaming lambs, Dr. Lecter wasn’t so lucky. He tossed and turned as those all too familiar images danced across his closed lids. The large barn door, her small hand so tight in his, those soldiers larger than life, pulling her away from him.

“anniba!” she screamed. “anniba!” 

“Mischa!” He screamed in response. 

However there was something slightly off about the nightmare. As Mischa turned around one last time to look at him, Clarice’s face greeted him. 

But he still screamed “Mischa!” as he jostled himself awake; kicking and clawing at the covers. He sat up in a cold sweat gasping for breath, running his fingers through his hair. As his maroon eyes adjusted to the darkness he turned and remembered he was not alone in his bed. Clarice looked at him wide eyed, her face full of concern. Hannibal took a deep breath and buried his face in his hands. 

Hannibal didn’t say a thing which surprised Clarice. He had always gotten the last word in every time they spoke, but somehow this time was different. He simply silenced himself, shut off the light and let the subject rest. She didn’t really think that was the end of it, but he followed her wish for it to be the end of it for tonight.

Clarice laid awake and listened to his breathing finally slow and then become even. The steady rhythm pleasing her. She didn’t celebrate, but she felt proud for standing her ground about her beliefs with a man that had made her heart hammer in her chest every time she had made the long walk over the cement and stone to see him. The thought that she had disturbed his sensibilities about his own mortality hadn’t even crossed her mind. He was a man that had taken life in the matter of seconds, just like she had, but for very different reasons. Certainly he understood life’s fleeting nature better than anyone. Hannibal and his collection of church collapses – the delicious irony – that no one was safe. Sinner and saint equal in the scheme of it all. Did he not reflect on his own mortality the same as everyone else?

Clarice had drifted to sleep swimming in the fluid thoughts that swans and typhoid all came from the same place. Her dreams disrupted by kicking and cries.

She sat up, eyes on Hannibal. The cry of “Mischa” startling to say the least. She watched as he gasped for air, face in his hands; skin glistening with sweat.

“Hannibal?” Asked quietly her voice still ladened with the husky tendrils of sleep. Her hand wasn’t tentative but reached out to him readily and rested on his back before rubbing lightly in a circle. She remembered the first time she started awake with a nightmare at the orphanage and how one of the older girls helped her calm down and sleep again. Now it was her turn to repay the favor. Head leaning in, lips press to his shoulder. She muttered her words against his bare skin. “It’s all okay. You’re with me now and no one is going to hurt you.”

The fact that she was told those soothing words decades ago, and was now repeating them to Hannibal Lecter surprised her the most.

Hannibal felt her hand, her lips and heard her words; the irony of it all. “I don’t deserve you, Clarice,” he got out of bed, grabbed his blue satin robe and wrapped it around his naked body. He walked over to the window, opening the heavy curtains that blocked out the moonlight, “I pulled out of you your darkest moments, how they haunted your nightmares, taunted you with them, sent you a letter from half way around the world asking if those lambs were still screaming. I wake you up with mine and you don’t ask a single question; you just comfort me and tell me it’ll be okay. “ 

He turned back around and looked at her, “These nightmares were my secret. Rachel was a sound sleeper, a snorer, and slept right through them. Eight years incarcerated and thankfully the cries of the other inmates drowned them out when they happened. Chilton would have loved to hold these above my head. To know the great Dr. Hannibal Lecter has nightmares about his most painful memory!” He turned and looked back out the window, “How pedestrian. How pathetic that decades later, even after killing those men, I cannot get over it.”

Dr. Lecter paused realizing what he had let slip. Clarice had no clue of his crimes before he came to America and little of his life before as well. She only knew what he had told her of Mischa and his childhood, and he had only told her the happy times and that she had died during the war. All in due time, the last thing he wanted was to over-saturate the bud of their romance. 

“Excuse me, Clarice,” Hannibal left the room hurried and headed to the kitchen. Turning the light above the stove on, he then went into the pantry and removed a canister of chamomile tea. However he stood there for a minute his maroon eyes darting between it and the wine rack. The scent of the herbs in the tea always reminded him a Mischa. However a full bodied red would calm his nerves and then he could crawl back into bed with the woman he loved. The woman who was his present and could be the future he wanted so badly, not the dead sister he couldn’t let go.

She wanted to ask him why he thought she would just go ahead and care without question. Because she knew the pain of not being able to save her lamb. In her case, it hurt to not save those innocent animals, but she knew by the desperate way he called Mischa’s name, the way he had wanted her back – to have the teacup come together – because he couldn’t save her from the pigs swarming them in the barn long ago the way that he had been able to save Clarice. Now he’d been strong enough to lift her aloft and carry her above the maddening squeals and cries. Hannibal had been allowed to save Mischa once by proxy through her. The vision lacked clarity and all that was muddled.

The pain of that loss, Clarice couldn’t bring herself to judge.

Of course, Mischa’s ultimate destiny wasn’t known to Clarice, not really. But every interaction with Lecter, every seemingly inconsequential piece of information, the extravagant dinners, the pages of mathematical equations dealing with time all clicked slowly into place. His actions to save her in the Verger barn all coalesced as dull eyes stared at him as he moved to the window and then away.

Hannibal was kind and excused himself. Clarice sat propped leaning on her extended arm in bed. It snapped into clarity all at once, like seeing the diamond shaped pattern for darts. The cannibalism, the murdering of the rude, people equivalent to swine. Mischa had been lost time him in that way. The fact he had unknowingly partook would have to be filled in by him. She couldn’t fathom that leap alone.

Clarice could hear the click and pop of the gas under the tea kettle in the kitchen. She wrapped in the silk kimono type robe and padded quickly to the kitchen. “Please…make me a cup too. Then we can sit under the stars again and when you’re ready…you can tell me.” _…how those fucking swine killed your little lamb, Mischa._

He decided on the tea. After turning the burner on he was busy smelling the chamomile, visiting a special and secret room of his Memory Palace and hadn’t heard Clarice enter the kitchen. But his visit was about to be abruptly cut short. Clarice’s hand grabbed little Hannibal by the arm leading him out of the field of weeds and dirt. She didn’t speak a word but he heard her loud and clear, “Come Hannibal, it’s time. You thought I was the worthiest place for her, if that’s the case I’m worthy of her story. Unburden yourself to me.” Mischa was turned away too busy laughing with handful of wildflowers to notice. 

_How did she open this door? I locked it. It requires a master key. He looked up at sure enough around her neck was a golden key. I gave it to her? When?_ He opened his eyes, glassy with tears. She had invaded one of his most secret rooms; actually he gave her access. Hannibal sat the tea container down to remove the whistling tea kettle from the hot burner before turning it off. He pulled two tea cups down from the cabinet before finally turning around to face Clarice. He gave her a half smile, “I promise not to break them.” 

“They were dissenters,” Hannibal spoke calmly as he placed the tea bags in the cups and poured the water over them. “They took over our family estate.” He paused a while letting the tea finish brewing before removing the bags, He handed her a cup before leading them back out onto the porch.

They were greeted by a sky full of stars and their clothes from their earlier escapade. Hannibal stood erect holding his cup in both hands, sipping his tea. Could he continue? He turned and looked at Clarice, her eyes soft ready to absorb his pain. He thought back to those conversations between barriers and bars where she laid her soul bare to save another lamb. Maybe he was premature in giving her that key.

He walked over to the bench where just hours before they had enjoyed such bliss and sat down. “Tell me, Clarice I’m not just another lamb am I? One that cries for real in the middle of the night instead of just in your nightmares? Don’t insult yourself or me by thinking you can save me.” 

For as much as she talked, Clarice knew when it was time to shut up and listen. Hannibal seemed to be protecting himself with dry humor, the comment about promising not to break the teacups. She smiled warmly understanding the need for levity before forging forward with the pain of tearing off the Band-aid. Only she had no idea of the depth of that painful attachment.

She took her cup of tea with a nod and followed Hannibal out to the porch and looked up at the sky full of stars as if their twinkling light could give her strength to hear his pain. Clarice sat, legs folding under to keep warm, one hand releasing her grip on the teacup to pull the thin silk over the thigh, and then turned her full attention to Hannibal. Deep blue eyes tried to engulf maroon, be the steady rock for him to cling to. It was the first time she questioned her strength to take on an unknown burden and also knew she couldn’t falter either, not with this man.

“You’re not a lamb, Hannibal. And I would be foolish to ever misjudge you as anything so weak. Beyond that…” Clarice shook her head and looked away from his eyes and into the depth of her tea as if she could divine the answer there, “I don’t know…but you’re not a lamb, or a monster.” Slowly her prairie gaze leveled with his own, and she was ready. “If I _could_ save you, I would. But much like the lambs…you have to be able to see that’s a possibility as an option to take it.”

Hannibal smirked at Clarice. Her answer was just like the ones she’d given years ago from the other side of barriers. Answers that proved her a worthy adversary; answers that as Chilton once phrased it; turned him to jelly for her. He lifted one hand off his tea cup and caressed her cheek as if to confirm the barriers were gone. The Doctor returned his grip to his cup, taking a sip of tea before taking a deep breath.

He looked up at the stars as he talked, he didn’t want Clarice to see the pain in his eyes. “As I said they were dissenters who took over our family estate. It was winter, they ran out of food…” He took a sip of tea, doing all he could to stall. “They…they pulled Mischa from me no matter how tight I held on. We were in the barn and they closed the large door on my arm.” His voice was soft and as he looked up at the stars he felt like he was floating, getting lighter with each word. He hated how cliché it was; Mischa was his pain he didn’t want to share it or be rid of it. But if he had considered Clarice a worthy vessel of Mischa’s rebirth she was certainly worthy of her story.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, Hannibal rarely cried and he certainly never let anybody see him cry, “She looked back at me screaming ‘anniba, anniba!’ she couldn’t pronounce Hs or Ls. I heard the ax.” Hannibal stood, sitting his tea cup on bench’s hand rail. He kicked his pants aside taking his anger on them, “I found some of her baby teeth in their stool. A few days later they gave me a bowl of broth and being so hungry I ate it. They then laughed as they informed me I ate the remains of my sister.”

Hannibal finally turned around to face Clarice, pain and tears still in his maroon eyes. There were tears and sadness in her blue eyes. This he was okay with, he did not want pity and he knew she knew better. “You sought to save the lambs and get them justice. I slaughtered every pig and wolf who crossed my path for harming a lamb. I’m afraid neither really worked.” Then as if he had not just shared his most intimate pain and secret his tone completely changed to matter of fact, “If you’ll excuse me, Clarice I’m exhausted.”

His smirk a confirmation. He appreciated her. Not just physically, but her intelligence, or perhaps better yet, her wisdom. There was something deeply satisfying about knowing that without being told, for she knew it was not praise Hannibal Lecter gave easily or lightly. It helped her to feel ready.

She was not prepared.

He had turned away and closed his eyes when she had conveyed parts of her story. She had assumed, what she now believed was wrongly, that he was relishing her pain and desperation over her childhood trauma in the barn. Had it been different? Had he fought his own flashing memories and visions in those moments. Had he understood and empathized because of his own trauma?

She responded in kind. Eyes glassy. Tears threatening to slip from the edge with a trembling exhale she’d been holding.

“Oh, Hannibal,” her hand catching his when he stood. What could she do to take that away? She didn’t think twice about his revenge. It was, in her eyes, frontier justice and belonged to him and him alone.

Clarice stood and her arms wrapped protectively around him, a gentle embrace. A reverent kiss pressed to his cheek followed by another shuddering breath. “Come…we’ll go to bed. I’ll hold you.”

Clarice wrapped their bodies tight in the bed’s comforter, a cocoon of safety. Legs entwined, Clarice pulled Hannibal’s head to her breast, and then wrapped her arms around him, keeping her word to hold him. Tears streamed constant down his cheeks damping the silk of her kimono style robe. Then The Doctor did something he’d never done before; he let out a sob, a wailing sob. 

“I ate her, Clarice!” He cried balling up a part of her robe in his fist. “I ate my little sister! I couldn’t save her!” More tears fell. “I was just a child myself!” He let out another wailing sob. “I was just a child myself.”

Hannibal felt Clarice’s fingers through his hair, gently caressing his scalp. Her touch was soothing, the sobs cathartic; decades of guilt and pain finally starting to let go. He relaxed his hand, opting now instead to curl his fingers with the Clarice’s hand that currently wasn’t running through his hair. Now beyond exhausted and feeling safe and loved in Clarice’s arms Hannibal fell into a deep sleep.


	5. In The Morning

Dr. Lecter was the first to wake in the morning, rising out of restful sleep and Clarice’s arms like a butterfly. Having showered and dressed, it was off to the kitchen to whip up a breakfast surprise; something simple yet grand. He situated the spinach and feta quiche on the tray along with a pot of coffee, a dish of strawberries and all the needed plates, cups and utensils before carrying it back to his bedroom. 

Upon entering he saw Clarice just sitting up in the bed. He smiled large, all his little teeth showing, his maroon eyes bright, “Good you’re awake, love. Yesterday was very emotionally turbulent yet necessary for us. I am hoping we can make today a bit sunnier to balance it out, hm?”

The sob was gut wrenching. Clarice could only lay there and caress him gently and pray for sleep to take them booth, but it took time because his audible pain made her stomach churn. There were no words to ease that pain. She could only hope that time and self-forgiveness would prevail, but given Hannibal Lecter’s age and the past Clarice questioned the possibility.

*******

The scent of coffee roused Clarice from her sleep. She cleaned up, washed her face and brushed her teeth before settling back in bed. She knew Hannibal’s past MO and figured if she waited a few more minutes he would arrive with breakfast in bed for her. She was right and smiled, now wearing the silk chemise that matched the robe which had been flung over the chair in the corner. It seemed appropriate to change, like a fresh day called for a fresh start.

She was pleased that Hannibal seemed to rebound so well, thought she knew it was not the end of the issue, only the beginning. “There were some very good points to yesterday,” she reminded withe sly grin, and scooted over making room for Hannibal and the tray of food.

“…but I’m curious…what would make today sunnier?” Taking a mug of coffee and sipping the already sweetened and creamy concoction that Hannibal had quickly learned that was how Clarice liked her coffee and indulged her sweet-tooth instead of trying to sway her taste.

Dr. Lecter took note that she now wore the matching chemise and her hair was brushed; when he’d left the bed her hair was a messy halo on the pillow, the silk kimono slightly open exposing one breast and the inside of one thigh. He thought it was cute that she tidied up and then pretended to sleep knowing if she waited long enough she’d get breakfast in bed.

He cuddled up next to her, the tray across her lap. They both ate several bites of quiche as he contemplated what she said. He took a swig of his coffee, only with cream. Despite now spending more of his life in America than Europe now he never understood how most Americans could stand their coffee or tea so sweet.

“I do enjoy a good storm, Clarice,” He sat his mug down. “And as you said they have their good points. Listening to the howling wind and rain can be soothing. And one cannot survive without the water the rain brings. And storms do bring a chaos I enjoy watching, and sometimes the collapsing of a church roof I so enjoy collecting. But when it’s your own storm, you can only tolerate so much and long for the calm the follows.” 

As he talked he watched Clarice grab a strawberry and ate it; her coral lips being anything but subtle in how they wrapped around the plump berry.

“Yesterday the winds tore us apart but as the storm calmed we came back together. I figured if we started the morning in the sun together, the day could only get better. I’m done with this, are you done with this? You’re done with this,” Hannibal grabbed the tray moving it to the floor not waiting for her reply. 

The Doctor then climbed on top of her lap where the tray had just been, straddling her. He used the full weight of his lower body to push his groin into her’s. He then grabbed her arms pushing his hands into each of hers on either side of her pinning them down to the mattress. He hadn’t used such physical force with Clarice yet and never planned to…at least outside of the bedroom in a sexual matter.

Hannibal then leaned into her face whispering into her ear, the metallic rasp of his voice prominent, “You’re not leaving the house today, Clarice.”

To be fair, the way she ate the strawberry differed in no way than anyone else, but Hannibal Lecter’s perception was his own reality. She was hungry and the scent of the quiche made her stomach rumble. Clarice knew Hannibal was just trying to be poetic in the way he described their rapid expansion and contraction of emotions, but she only thought it was normal and let him drone on with his thought until it reached completion. She felt no need to interrupt while she was so very much enjoying her gourmet breakfast. The usually rare treat had become customary, but she still appreciated it just as much as the first time.

Watching her half eaten piece of toast glistening with melted butter taken and flung heedlessly away made her lips twitch and the corners of her mouth turn down. Lips parted to speak as strong hands drug her down on the bed so her head rested once again on the mattress. It was a shock, and a thrill. The silk ridding up around her hips as his body pressed her down, and hand grappled wrists.

Clarice let out a little huff incredulous. She did not like having her meals interrupted, even for amorous activity.

“I’ll be sneaking the fuck out to get a crab cake sandwich, Dr. Lecter.” She didn’t vacillate, only locked eyes with him as he hover over her. A broad smile broke slow over her lips then. She wouldn’t run or sneak out, but she did want to make it clear that taking away her breakfast when she was still hungry wasn’t appreciated.

“But I would like to see how you would accomplish that,“ boldly but playfully confronting him. All the while still pinned to the bed.

Clarice’s words and their inflictions said one thing, but body said another. She didn’t fight against his force and he noted slight changes in her breathing, her nipples now perked up behind the silk. She obviously found his shift from hesitant to domineering lover titillating. Maybe this was the Hannibal Lecter she had been expecting to see?

“How can you think of crab cake at a time like this, Clarice? Especially when we just finished breakfast? Unless…” The Doctor’s maroon eyes lit up. He leaned over the side of the bed and brought back with him the bowl of strawberries. “If you weren’t finished eating, Clarice you should have spoken up.” He grabbed a strawberry and bit off the tip before presenting it to her lips, “This one is delicious.” 

She finished it in two bites and he tossed the stem over the side aiming for the tray before lifting up another strawberry. Hannibal looked at the berry for a minute, “What is it about the human psyche that considers the strawberry an appropriate bedroom food?” He traced her lips with the tip before she ate the berry in one bite. “I guess it doesn’t matter right now though does it, Clarice? This is just breakfast.” He tossed this stem in the same direction as the other. 

He fed her one more strawberry before sliding off of her body and onto the bed on his stomach between her legs. Hannibal put his long fingers on the insides of her thighs pushing them further apart and exposing that even though she had cleaned up and put on the chemise she had skipped panties. Dr. Lecter tucked his head close to her cunt, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and held it. Arousal and pheromones; pure Clarice. The idea of smelling her cunt was in his mind ever since she bluntly told him what Miggs hissed at her the very first time they met.

He opened his eyes as he exhaled and smiled at her. Hannibal wrapped each arm around one of her thighs, “I have many ways of achieving what I desire.” And with that The Doctor’s head sank between her thighs, the first light flicks of his tongue on her clit. 

Eyes narrowed and she gave him a look. She thought having her breakfast taken away summarily was reason enough to think of food. She was however, aroused beyond words by the way his hips pressed hard into hers. It took a concerted effort to to not part her thighs and wrap her legs lustily around his waist. She wanted to see what he would do.

In response to his offering of strawberries, she ate them one by one dutifully. Her mouth, lips and tongue perhaps working in a more exaggerated manner with each additional berry. More than anything, she wanted to see what he would do next, her eyes on him every second watching what he would do.

He moved lower and her breathes deepened. A flush of arousal made her face and chest flush with anticipation. Lips parted with soft pants and she looked down at him and watched him inhale the scent of her cunt. The look on his face was priceless. Like he finally knew some secret to the universe. It made her think of the hissed announcement Miggs had made at her. She wondered if Miggs had found it was worth dying for, she doubted it. She wondered if Hannibal Lecter’s opinion differed.

His tongue darted knowingly. Teasing. It was light and quick over the spread folds concentrating directly on her clit. A sharp inhale almost whistled between her teeth and was quickly followed by a whimper on her exhale that couldn’t be controlled. She wondered how long he’d wanted to taste her and hoped it was worth the wait.

Hips rocked up slow. Thighs ever parted. She couldn’t even stand to gaze idly at the ceiling while his expert tongue worked. She wanted to feel every flick and lap. It took concentration so her eyes stayed closed.

“Oh,” she moaned wantonly, “Please don’t stop.”

His tongue might have been at work but his mind raced with thoughts about the situation at hand and how they had got there. Was she too thinking about Miggs’ comment? It was vile how Miggs had humiliated her by throwing his semen on her, but if Miggs hadn’t would he be here right now lapping up her nectar? Did Clarice remember his comments all those years ago about his wondering how she would taste? Hannibal ran his tongue up slow, collecting a small puddle of her juices. When he reached her clit, he wrapped his lips around it and sucked slightly. His head came up for a second and his mouth closed as he held her on his tongue.

_Oh such sweet intenseness!_ And as he closed his eyes the memories wrapped around him like a warm blanket. Seeing her running in the forest; his first glimpse of her entirely in seven years. His tongue, the very tongue now touching her most intimate parts, once wrapped around her Mustang’s steering wheel thinking this is as close as he’d ever get to tasting Clarice Starling: oil residue and dead skin cells. 

He swallowed, sighing with a smile on his lips as he opened his eyes. Clarice Starling’s face twisted in a mixture of agony and anger that he had ceased his work, one of her feet kicking his side.

“Clarice, you taste exquisite; a true delicacy to be savored. Now where was I?” He lowered his head back down, the point of his tongue circling her clit before he brought his lips to it and sucked hard. The whimpers and pleas escaping her mouth amused him. He loved having this kind of control over her. Hannibal knew he could build her fast and send her over the edge hard and quick, but there was no fun in that. He pulled his lips a way for a couple of seconds before lightly, teasingly, barely touching her clit with the tip of his tongue. _All good things to those who wait._

With his tongue pressed to her sex all previous thoughts and wonderings were lost. She only knew this moment, and wanted it to consumer her. Perhaps concerning, if Clarice truly had time to dwell on it, but she trusted him implicitly with her life. She knew he only wanted the best for her, and he made it so easy to submit.

Head pressed back into the down pillows with eyes closed and lower lip firmly between her teeth to control her wanton utterances. He was good. He must know that. The careful flicker of his tongue; the way his lips wrapped tight; the way he relished the way she tasted, holding her on his tongue as if it were some sort of fine wine to be savored.

_Don’t you dare fucking stop._

Her chest began to rise and fall faster, until her breaths finally parted her lips releasing a series of soft sighs and mewling little moans of satisfaction. It was close to agony when he stopped, even if he took the time to phrased it like some gourmet review. Reclined head tilted to observe him. Eyes glassy and half lidded; hazed with her own lust to see him settled securely between her legs. Clarice breathed out a soft exhale of dissatisfaction at the pause in his endeavors.

Fingers combed through his hair as her head tilted back once again exposing her throat. A sigh a pleasure escaping her once again as he began again, but this time there was an element of control to the grip on her hand. Guiding, but not crude and forceful. Her vocalizations intensified with his efforts.

Clarice’s nails were sharp against his scalp as her fingertips went from flat against to on point. He’d been through way worse and it was a small price to pay to hear how satisfied she was; it aroused him. The Doctor’s hard cock pushed into the mattress. His tongue and lips pushed harder and faster into her sex; he was done teasing her. Gone were the little mew and whimpers. As she climaxed her moans, Oh Gods and his name from her mouth were loud.

Hannibal pulled away, licking her juices off his lips, using her distraction to execute the rest of what he had planned. He quickly undid his pants exposing his fully erect dick before grabbing Clarice by the waist, turning her so she was now on her stomach. He knew she was going to furious for not being able to completely finish her post orgasm bliss and he didn’t care. He was now back on top of her, sitting on her thighs. He leaned over her back and whispered in her ear, “Don’t fight me, Clarice you’ll get your afterglow.”

He sat back up, pushed her chemise up past her waist and guided his dick into her already primed pussy. Hannibal let out a sigh. She was so warm, wet and welcoming. He loved how perfectly and easily he fit inside of her. He heard a gasp escape her lips as he took her wrists and forced them crisscrossed behind her back where he held them tight, “Now Clarice, when I’m done you will no longer think bedroom trysts are mundane.” 

In ecstasy, her world spun. Face first into the pillow as panting breaths damped luxuriously smooth cotton. Clarice’s eyes closed, as if she could take in all the stimulation by eliminating one of her five senses. It was all too much. He made it all too much, but yet, somehow, she wanted more. 

She wouldn’t _fight_ him.

“Show me,” a husky whisper muttered into the pillow. It was a declaration and an offer. One he might consider hostile, but it wasn’t. Hips lifted off the mattress. Rising impetuous. She wanted to meet the next thrust. The hard fall of his hips against her firm backside. The little jolt it brought… _GLORIOUS._

The cry of pleasure muffled as fingers groped at the sheets and twisted in her slender fingers. Stopping the forward motion he sent her in with increasing force.

Nothing with Hannibal Lecter was mundane, but she was glad he only took her earlier statement as a challenge. He wanted her, but more importantly, he wanted to impress her. Rise to her expectations. That was the knowledge that aroused her. Her cunt quivering around him as he sent her rushing over the edge again.

Hannibal felt Clarice’s body giving in curious as to his plans. Her pulling her hands from his and her rising hips wasn’t defiance to these plans; they were typical responses to being in the throes of passions. This made The Doctor happy but this was about more than passionate sex; this was about new experiences. And she did mutter show me into the pillow.

He put his hands on top of hers using force to untwist her fingers from around the sheets; pushing her palms into the mattress. “I want your hands to stay here, Clarice, under mine, flat on the mattress.” He felt her sex trembling and pushed deep inside her. Her ripples not only felt wonderful against his cock but also his ego. Hannibal Lecter took pride in a lot of things he did and impressing his lovers in the bedroom was one of his top priorities. His pelvis crashed violently into her firm behind as pushed into her hard and deep.  
Hannibal then ceased thrusting, his face flushing crimson, the muscles contorting, his nails digging to the tops of Clarice’s hands as he groaned loudly; another batch of his seed inside her. After a few deep breaths, Hannibal had his bearings even if his heart rate was yet again above 85. As he withdrew from Clarice he felt a large mixture of their fluids escape her and drip off of him. Never had he been so sloppy, nor did he care. Exhausted he collapsed on top of her. She was amazing, she was also about half his age, could he handle his old sexual habits now?

Hands pressed hard, almost painfully on top of hers into the mattress. Eyes fluttered closed as lips parted. A long low moan of ecstasy only partially muffled by the pillow. Clarice could only imagine that the sound was more pleasing to Hannibal than any aria. The last violent thrust and the complete collapse of his weight on her was welcomed. Their panting breaths in sync.

It took a few long moments but he stirred and pulled away. It left her feeling empty; hot and slick wetness painted almost delicately over the back of her thigh. Hips finally lowered down into the mattress and a sigh of contentment rang softly in the air.

She wanted her senses flooded with euphoria daily.

Clarice was glad his weight held her down, for surely, she thought, she would fly away. “Mmm,” she hummed as a smile curled the corner of her mouth, “that was nice. But next time let me up on my hands and knees.” Her hands turning in place to allow her fingers and intertwine with his as they basked in the afterglow he had promised.

For several minutes the only sound was their breathing. He held her hands loosely as he kissed her shoulders glistening with sweat. In hindsight they should have removed their clothes, luckily Clarice only had on that skimpy chemise, but she did have his full weight. She didn’t seem to mind. He couldn’t believe this woman, this Special Agent Clarice M. Starling, was under him on his bed. That she was still with him, that within 24 hours he made love to the object of his affection for many years twice. 

He smiled large as he finally rolled off her and onto his back. “Oh Clarice,” he sighed. “Shall we never again make love wearing our clothes, hmm?” The Doctor went to work unbuttoning and removing his shirt. He pulled his pants off, leaving on his boxer briefs. “We have all the time in the world, there is time to remove them.” He pulled her into his arms, gently running his fingers up and down her arm, “Especially with you getting my heart rate above 85. Congratulations, my love on being the first.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead, still tasting sweat. And as far as allowing you on your hand and knees; there’s time for that, there’s time again for me to smoother you and everything in between.”

Hannibal continued to caress her arm, “Now I figured for today, it is time for us to seriously start thinking about our future. Our time on the Chesapeake has been wonderful, sometimes I still believe I’m dreaming, but it must start coming to an end. They know I’m in the area. They have to know by now you came looking for me and that Krendler is missing. It’s only a matter of time before we need to be not only gone from area but the country.” Hannibal turned and looked her in the eyes, red finding its match in blue. “You chose to stay with me, Clarice. We’re in this together now. I will be able to get you the necessary papers so tell me, where shall we take our honeymoon?” 

Arms wrought with wiry strength enveloped her. It didn’t inspire fear, but a sense of calm and acceptance. Clarice thought she’d like to stay right there with him forever. No need to move. Stay in bed for eternity. The last half hour had felt like the entire world had fallen away and only they existed. Deep down she knew that wasn’t true, and he had no problem reminding her of that fact. And sex, fully or partially clothed, or completely undressed would continue as it already had. There was a sense of exquisite urgency that made the act feel desperate just now, and the participants given a rush of heady delight. A wry smile curled the corner of the mouth, she couldn’t wait for the moment he would beseech her for a tryst in some opera box or a balcony over looking a city or quiet alcove of some far off vine cover arboretum. _But here we don’t have the luxury of all the time in the world, Hannibal._ Oh how she wanted to feel his pulse pound. Get his blood pumping in more than one way.

Facing him, her fingers moved idly now up and down his forearm in a soft caress in return. Fingers stopped their movement with the word honeymoon. She knew it made the most sense to travel as a married couple but there was an immediate feeling of permanence that she made her feel _giddy._

“Is that a proposal?” Clarice questioned in disbelief, “Sex three times and the eternal bachelor is willing to finally throw it all away? It sort of makes me wish for the Baltimore society pages headlines on their take.”

The wry smile curving coral lips in pleasure at exposing his exceedingly long bachelorhood. How much more easily he could have hidden had he married the likes of Rachel Duberry? The passing thought annoying her for a second because it would have meant her still being stuck in some tiresome FBI mouse wheel going nowhere. In the end, she let the annoyance go, the past was not altered and she was here with him now, and happy.

“As for a honeymoon…once you put a ring on it,” she goaded, “I’d love to see the likes of Paris, Madrid, Vienna, and I don’t know…Rio. Just to name a few off the top of my head. That’s my short list.”

The Doctor turned on his side pulling away from her. He felt the plush bed adjust to his new position as Clarice’s words clouded his mind. While she seemed giddy the mood had changed for Hannibal. He frowned as he spoke, “Oh Clarice, I am disappointed in you. Do you really think this is just about sex? That only fucking you made me want to throw away bachelorhood?” He sat up, “What about everything else, Clarice? Our conversations in that basement, my letters, all the time I spent thinking about you, planning our time here, our therapy sessions here…” he trailed off and paused for a minute looking away.

He then turned back looking her in the eyes, “I once told you it would have been something to know you in private life. That was that moment I knew I would have given up the bachelor life to marry someone like you…actually you if our fates had been different. And now they are.” 

The Doctor got off the bed and walked over to his dresser, “I also thought you would be above such societal conventions, Clarice. Asking me to put a ring on you, to make our love official by society standards; this goes against everything I know and love about you. I thought you would understand such symbols no longer need to hold so much power in your life.” He opened the top dresser drawer and removed a box and walked back to the edge of the bed, where he sat down next to her. “Regardless, Clarice I also understand human nature and survival.” 

Hannibal opened the box and inside was a gold ring with a solitary diamond. A grin crept across his face, “This was my mother’s. It was one of the few family heirlooms I was able to save. I had cleaned and resized for you. Our alias can get married silly ceremony and all.” He pulled the ring out of the box and slid it onto her left ring finger before kissing her hand. “Mrs. Lecter,” he said with a playful tone. 

Speechless.

The man had left Starling without words and it took her a moment to collect herself, and collect the thoughts that swirled around in her head. For a man that had made a passing comment about knowing her in her private life, she hadn’t ever thought that reality would ever come to fruition. The last few months had changed that of course, but she’ hadn’t made the association until now. Her arm moved and propped herself to look at him as he moved toward her and showed her the ring. His mother’s ring. The countess. She’d only been teasing him about putting a ring on it. Evidently Hannibal Lecter wasn’t familiar with Beyonce. The speechless lips twisted into a smile.

The ring was antique and beautiful. The diamond sparkling brilliantly in the natural light – obvious quality without being overtly large and garish. Clarice swallowed thickly unsure what to say.

_People will say we’re in love…_

That was true. People would say it if they knew, because in her heart, she knew they loved each other dearly. When exactly that occurred, she couldn’t pinpoint and she didn’t feel pressured to do so. The end result was the same.

“Hannibal,” his name said on an exhale, “it’s beautiful.”

She couldn’t bring herself to tell him she was teasing. He might have like her frankness when they first met, but even she knew that some moments were just meant to be as they were. She extended her hand and gazed at the ring a little bit longer before looking up at him.

“I don’t need this for me, but so others know without having to ask or me having to say that I’m…unavailable and only with you.”

The Doctor leaned into her face, taking her cheeks into his hands, “Oh Clarice your first lie to me in all these months. As much as you’re ready to reject society there’s a part of you that still values this tradition; the symbolic gesture in which a symbolic item is given as the sign of a promise. Christianity does it with bread and wine. What was the symbolic item you were given, Clarice? A badge and a gun from the FBI?” Hannibal crawled on top of her and straddled her, “Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity…they sure as Hell broke that promise to you.” He alternated kissing both sides of her neck, “We don’t need a symbolic item for me to promise I will never hurt you; but like you there are certain items I cannot let go.”

He intertwined his fingers with hers feeling the ring as he leaned over and kissed her passionately. He pushed his groin into hers. The thought of staying in bed all day with the future Mrs. Lecter, the woman worthy of the legacy of his mother’s ring, crossed his mind. Yes, they needed to start getting ready to leave the area, but it wasn’t like the FBI was going to bust down the door this very instant. 

Hannibal pulled away from Clarice’s lips and trailed his down her neck and to her chest. He could feel her increasing heartbeat and gently kissed her peaked nipples through the silk chemise before lifting his head. His maroon eyes devoured her, “Your short list is full of wonderful places, Clarice. I believe Paris shall be our first stop. I lived there as a young man; it’s actually where I went to medical school. I will be able to navigate it without us getting caught.”  
He closed his eyes and heard a familiar pounding on a door in his Memory Palace.

_“Paris? Are you sure you want to take her to Paris?” Lady Murasaki called from the other side of her door. “How many ghosts do you have there as well, Hannibal? She may have found something in you still to love but how long before she tires of dealing with the broken psyche of an old man?”_

_He felt his face flush as he grabbed the doorknob for the first time in years, flung the door open. She stumbled backwards, almost tripping over her kimono. “You’re just jealous!” He exclaimed. “Jealous I finally found someone I love more than you! Jealous she has seen all I am capable of and doesn’t find me deplorable! You are just a memory, Murasaki. You no longer hold any power over me; I will only come here to visit the good…”_

_“Tell that to Mischa.”_

_He glared at her, his maroon eyes filled with rage but he turned when he heard his name. Clarice stood in the door way, her hand extended, “Tell me about her when we’re in Paris and you’ll be able to let her go.”_

Hannibal opened his eyes and looked down at Clarice and smiled, “Yes, Paris. Do you still want those crabcakes for lunch? We’ll be out running errands in prep for our leaving most of the day so it’s a perfect time for us to have them.”

There was something satisfying about that beautiful heirloom band of metal that held a stone aloft, small pave diamonds on the band and haloing the center stone sparkling brilliantly in the light of the room. It reflected the light and also reflected the time it was from, and not so secretly, Clarice adored it. It was odd to her how a simple symbol could make her feel so secure, but was sure that the fact that Hannibal had kept it for so long only to bestow it on her made it clear the sentimental value.

In her awe of the ring she missed the facial twitches that accompanied his thoughts looking up away from the dazzling brilliance and to his serene maroon eyes once again. The press of his lips and the teasing roll of his hips did not go unnoticed. Clarice responded with a rumbling purr of agreement at the action before speaking.

“Yes,” she chirped back quickly about the crabcakes, “and I have a list a mile long of everything I’d like to see in Paris. How long can we stay? Because I want to spend every afternoon sitting in the sun of some new sidewalk cafe sipping wine and eating cheese.”

Hannibal helped Clarice set up as he climbed off of her, “We’re not going to be enjoying and wine and cheese at sunset in Paris if we don’t get our errands done, Clarice. Now shall we get ready?”


	6. Errands and Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Lionessamiele and I are still friends, this roleplay fizzled out quite sometime ago. If you've ever roleplayed you know how that can go. I still however have everything we wrote up to when we stopped saved, and amazingly where we stopped is a good ending point. Because of this I am going to finish posting what we have to finish off this "story." Note it won't be edited for spelling, errors, grammar and all that jazz. Just enjoy it as is.

He resisted the urge to take Clarice’s Mustang out; as much fun as it would have been he knew they had APB on any green Mustang. So it was his dependable innocuous truck. He could hardly keep his eyes on the road as he drove; Hannibal wanted to commit to memory every change in Clarice’s face as she looked out the window. His favorite classical musical station danced softly on the air as he shifted gears. For once in his life he yearned for an automatic so he could rest his hand on Clarice’s knee.

“I’ll get us a hotel with a view of the Paris skyline,” he looked over at her and smiled while at a red light. “You say you want to spend every afternoon at a new sidewalk café but I’ll make sure we have a balcony and we can spend and some evenings there with wine and cheese. I’ve been told I make amazing escargot.”

Everything about this was stereotypical an American in Paris but instead of irking The Doctor it thrilled him. Paris was tainted for him but new for Clarice; he was getting to a chance to repaint those walls of his Memory Palace, see the city through her eyes. _Paris is called The City of Love make it as such with your little Starling._

Hannibal pulled into a parking lot and killed the engine. He noticed perplexity come across her face as she looked out the window at their destination, then at him. 

He pulled a small slip of paper out of his jacket pocket, “Yes, a drugstore is our first stop, Clarice. We’ve both been irresponsible and we cannot have that ruin our plans. You’ll need to take the prescription exactly as I’ve written it; the extra birth control pills taken in rapid succession up front will prevent implantation if needed. Then after those every night at dinner a regular scheduled pill so we have no concerns. It’s written under one of my alias but as you know all the medical information is sound. I made up a name but used your real birthdate for the time being.”

Hannibal handed her the slip and then unlocked the doors. He smiled at her, “Shall we, Clarice? Crabcakes are next.”

Clarice lingered in bed for a moment before huffing softly. She got ready quickly, showering, dressing and drying her hair straight. The make-up minimal but accentuating her wholesome features. She felt a giddy excitement climbing into the truck. It allowed her to dress down and be comfortable for the day out. Drawing attention to themselves was not a priority.

 *******  
Clarice watched the familiar scenery pass by, but with Hannibal, it felt fresh and new. Seen with new eyes, in a clean light.

She took the offered slip of paper and read it over. Her mouth twitched slightly. She hadn’t given that particular outcome much of a thought and knew it was the benzo’s and anxiolytics he was giving her to keep her from feeling anxious around him. Clarice folded the paper and pushed it deep into her jeans pocket.

“I’m familiar with using birth control as a preventative,” she informed him frankly, “I got it from student health at UVA once.” She wasn’t opposed to having children, but working out their differences and just learning to live together would be necessary first.  
Clarice had continued to look out the windshield and then suddenly turned to him, her hand resting on his, “you don’t have give me those meds anymore…I trust you.” With that, she gave his hand a light squeeze and exited the car waiting for him at the rear of the car.

Hannibal watched the diamond on his mother’s, now Clarice’s ring, sparkle in the sunlight as she gave his hand a squeeze before exiting the truck. He took a deep breath as he placed his fedora on his head and adjusted his sunglasses before heading out of the truck himself. 

“Clarice,” he whispered as he approached her. “I hope you understand why and accept because I will not apologize. Going forward will be a different story.” He linked his arms with hers as they walked towards the building. “However I will apologize for my behavior in the truck. You are a cleaver girl, Clarice. It’s the first thing I noticed about you. You would have figured out the prescription or asked questions if you had them. Patronizing is my natural state because I am not used to being around somebody who is my equal.” 

Once inside the store, Dr. Lecter headed towards the magazines and newspapers; he knew Clarice could handle herself against any pharmacist who tried to deny her the prescription based on their religious beliefs. He perused the papers looking for articles about them: _New Leads In 7 Year Hunt for Serial Killer, Missing FBI Agent Presumed Dead, Cannibal Back In DC Metro Area, FBI Agent Under Investigation for Ties to Lecter Now Missing._ Of Course the Tattler didn’t shy away from the sensational: _He Ate My Heart: Exclusive Insider Information on the love affair of Hannibal “The Cannibal” Lecter and Special Agent Clarice Starling._

Hannibal opened the Tattler and skimmed the article “Our anonymous source says Lecter was responsive to Starling in way he never was to other visitors. She interested him and it wasn’t just because she was easy on the eyes. She matched him wit for wit and it had been a long time since he had that kind of intellectual stimulation.” The Doctor shook his head. “Oh Barney,” he mumbled softly to himself. “How much did they pay you?” He skimmed further. “And it just wasn’t on Lecter’s end. Years later while working the case Starling said to me he had become her bad habit. That she thought had thought about him every day in those seven years since he’d escaped.”

Clarice gave a nod. She did understand, but moved off toward the pharmacy counter getting no push back from the pharmacist. Perhaps it was the placid ‘take no shit’ look on her face. There would be no more need for controlling her anxiety. She was comfortable around Hannibal Lecter, maybe ever before she realized it.

*******

Clarice moved silently and observed exactly what Hannibal was reading. She followed long for a minute scanning the article quickly. She knew the Tattler well so the direction they had taken about he disappearance was no surprise. A part of her was secretly impress at how close to the truth they actually were, and thought they deserved kudos that the other news sources didn’t.

“Of course I talked to him,” eyes moving from the print to his deep wells of maroon, “did you expect anything less?” She hoped that Hannibal wouldn’t hold a grudge against Barney. Starling certainly didn’t. He had been in a difficult situation and need her help as much as she had needed him. He was respectful and provided her with the information she needed. Clarice decided she need to speak up on Barney’s behalf. Her hand taking his at he set the rag of a tabloid down back down on the display.

“As for you being my ‘bad habit’…I think I attributed it to you being more like a punch in the throat that grated at me thirty seconds every day…not as a positive.” Clarice smirked as they walked in the full sunlight again and headed back to the truck. Her aviator sunglasses covering a large portion of her face and her arm happily looped through his. 

“You know that the Tattler took their own spin on it didn’t you?”

Hips swayed as she walked, and they reached the old truck. She was pleased and glad they were speaking openly about everything. She didn’t need to wait for lunch. “…because sex sells. Especially when it comes to you. And the Tattler loves to sell the idea of you and me together. Just who knew they would actually guess right?”

“Not positive? Oh Clarice why do I doubt this?” Hannibal smirked as he placed his hands on both sides of passenger door pinning Clarice between the truck and his body. He leaned in and kissed her gently. He then opened the truck door for her before walking around and getting in and driving off.

“And don’t worry about Barney. He was nothing but fair and kind to me during those eight years; I have no plans to call on him. Besides it’s not rude to speak the truth, even to the Tattler. Even if I had plans to call on him, now is not the time.”

He studied Clarice’s face from the corner of his eye. He continued to speak before she could, “You’re concerned about what I just said. Let me assure you, Clarice I want to leave the past behind. I know I still have issues to work on and things like the nightmares about Mischa will not disappear overnight. With those all I can ask of you is to be patient with an old man.” 

The truck pulled into the parking lot of a waterfront bistro. Once he killed the engine he took his sunglasses off and looked Clarice deep in her blue eyes as he took her hand into this, “With you by my side the rest can be forgotten.” He raised her hand to her lips and kissed it, “Of course unless someone threatens our happiness.” He smiled at her, he wanted more than anything for her to believe him. Hannibal then took a deep breath and let it out. “Well I hope you like the crab cakes here. I’ve read several good reviews about it.”

It hadn’t been positive. It had been a time full of turmoil and questioning. Her thoughts wavering between what was socially acceptable, what had been expected of her by the Lutherans, and the doctor’s way of thinking. She wasn’t sure she settled into either place comfortably but somewhere in-between. She could do what was necessary to keep them safe. Not for sport.

The gentle kiss helped, but Clarice wondered if Hannibal could control his impulses. Was it realistic for her to believe that Paul Krendler would be the finale to a long career of sadistic acts? She could believe his promise about Barney, as he had kept the same promise to her.

*******

The exhale of relief was audible when he made the pledge she needed to hear and kissed her hand. It was as if he was placing a seal upon his promise. He hadn’t force her ask. That was the part she needed because he was the one that needed to decide.

For him, a monumental decision.

“I think we should celebrate this occasion with champagne then,” the words coming out faintly choked. Clarice mustered a smile. She believed him, but knew the road would be long and the risks high.

Hannibal requested a table with a view of the bay and then ordered two glasses of their finest champagne. He had heard the relief in Clarice’s voice when he made his declaration and being who he was he wouldn’t be satisfied until he pried a little deeper.

“I did not realize what changing my ways would mean to you,” he looked over the menu at all the ways they prepared crab cakes. “I figured when you offered yourself to me, you knew what you were getting. You’d seen the photos, read my file. However, I can read you and knew what it would mean.” He looked up her, his maroon eyes soft, “And if I can help you change and give up your ghosts, I hope I can rely on you to do the same for me. Besides what good is starting a new life if I bring old bad habits?” 

He took a sip of champagne, “Now onto a pressing issue since it was straining me not to say your name in this crowded restaurant. Pick an alias now so I can call my associate. He’ll have it on the paperwork by the time we go to retrieve it after shopping. Yes, shopping. I despise those malls but I’ve got an order in because I do believe somebody needs a steamer trunk or two for Europe. Plus I am sure there are a few other things you are in need or want of I did not get you.”

Clarice couldn’t deny that the requested view was glorious. The dwindling light of the sun danced and sparkled on the water as the sky and restaurant glowed with a pinkish hue and then grew dark. The sun had set on the day and promised the turn of a new leaf. She felt oddly proud that a man of his ‘tastes’ would be willing to even make the attempt. She thought she could try new things too, and be open to new experiences. The idea of Hannibal Lecter showing her the world he knew was tantalizing and the mere idea made Clarice feel slightly giddy. The whirlwind promise of shopping and the mention of steamer trunks made her think of another era. She adored it, and smiled as her eyes left the water for the menu. She was sure she could find a few things.

Her perusal of menu was short. Clarice found the jumbo lump crab cakes she craved. She didn’t care what else he ordered. As decided, she’d be willing to give it a try.

A quick glance around the dinning room to assured they were sufficiently alone before answering his question. “Did you have a preference? I thought it might be best to stick with something similar like Claire…or maybe just use my middle name….Malone.”

She carefully sipped her first set of pills with the ice water before moving on to taste the champagne, and then looked at him unconcerned, “What name did you have in mind for yourself?”

The Doctor smiled wide, “Finally after all these years I learn what the M stands for. In all your records you only ever listed M. As for my name, I’ve had multiple sets of paperwork for years. Roberto Fletcher, is a recently retired med school professor who inherited his family’s wealth. His Italian mother married an American hence the odd name combination You, Malone Fletcher, are his beautiful wife who will come up with her own backstory.”

Once their food was delivered, instead of eating, Hannibal removed his cell phone, this week’s prepaid, from his belt. He dialed the number from memory, “You know who it is. Malone is her first name. Now all these better be done when we get there.” A pause as the other person talked. “I don’t care what you’re working on. I have already paid and we’re going shopping first giving you some extra time.” Another pause. “Thank you. Ta-ta!”

Hannibal hung up the phone, clipping it back to his belt and smiled at Clarice, “Ah, good girl, don’t wait for me. I hope they are as wonderful as you hoped. And now I shall try.”

The terse tone of his voice took Clarice by surprise but she enjoyed the strong and directing nature of it. A smile appeared with the ta-ta that signaled the end of the conversation and the commencement of their dinner together. An immensely enjoyable experience.


	7. Shopping

Dr. Lecter despised the American Shopping Mall. The endless chain stores, the people mindlessly spending money on mediocre items for entertainment, the emptiness of the walkways that allowed the echoes of screaming children. He squeezed Clarice’s hand tight as he witnessed at least four acts of rudeness in 10 minutes in what was supposed to be the high end mall. His promise not to kill anymore was already testing him.

“Your steamer trunks were a special order and are ready for pick up at Louis Vuitton, Malone,” He gave her a tense smile. “However I figured we would pick those up last since they will need to be secured in the truck. Now I know where I want to take you but what do you want to pick up?”

The terse tone of his voice took Clarice by surprise but she enjoyed the strong and directing nature of it. A smile appeared with the ta-ta that signaled the end of the conversation and the commencement of their dinner together. An immensely enjoyable experience.

*******

Clarice observed Hannibal quietly in this extremely banal and suburban environment. His grip on her hand tightening and then releasing with each passing annoyance. She wanted to take his mind off the crowds and back to her.

“Special ordered ahead of time?” Brow raised with a sly sidelong glance. “You were very sure of yourself.” Perhaps she had always had that secret spring of hope as well. She, of course, had not made any such plans. Her hopes buried far from the light of day and her ability to even admit to them until recently.

She was undeniably excited about the prospect of owning Louis Vuitton and there was a flash of delight in her eyes, but there was also an odd, creeping feeling that made her shiver. Being showered with charity had been a longtime problem and one she had always felt was associated with pity; even with earning her own way on so many levels. She wanted to contribute, and had money in the bank but tapping into it would have been dangerous; likely tracked carefully at this point in her disappearance. She was sure that discomfort shown on her face.

There were things Clarice wanted. Hannibal had built a grand trousseau but had over looked little things like workout gear, running shoes, and socks. “Just a few things. I can pick up everything I want for running a Under Armour.” She wasn’t prepared or comfortable _asking_ for more.

Hannibal walked them up to the directory looking for Under Armour and where it was in this labyrinth. The streets of Paris and Florence he could navigate but an American Mall confused him. Finding the store on the map he directed them in that direction. He noticed the changes in her face and how she looked away. 

“What is, Malone? Louis Vuitton too good for a country girl? Or is it actually being out in a place of consumerism making you realize you are now dependent on my mostly ill-gotten funds. And the idea disgusts you. You love me but you’ve never wanted to be dependent on a man.” 

They reached their destination but Hannibal paused outside. He pulled her closer so no one could overhear, “You are not dependent on me; you are my equal. But if it will make you feel better, Malone check your wallet. While she was not very fond of you, I was able to Margot to agree to give you the other half of the reward money her brother offered for my capture. I reminded her she was complicit in the plan in which they used you as bait. Besides with my advice that will soon be petty cash for her and Judy.”

He let go of her hand and backed away to study her reaction. “The rest is at home in a safe. I would have given it all to you if you would have decided to leave. However since you stayed, after tonight it and all my funds will be placed in a joint bank account. When you’re done join me in Saks Fifth Avenue. I’ll either be in the Men’s Department or Ladies Lingerie.” Hannibal gave her a wink and a Devilish grin as he walked away. 

The revelation floored her. Clarice of course did not feel the need to dig into her classic leather handbag that Hannibal Lecter had seen fit to make sure she took along with her on this journey. It wasn’t the only thing he’d selected from her closet in her duplex. Several other pieces of clothing made the cut, but she enjoyed immensely running her hand over all the luxurious goods he’d provided. It was everything she would have picked if she’d had the means.

Clarice blinked and looked around in time to watch Hannibal disappear into the crowd in the direction of Saks. Again, he’d read her perfectly – her fears and frustrations with the world and provided her with an answer with which she could abide. In time, she’d lose the irrational fear of being dependent and realize she truly was his equal. In a year, merging the funds into the ‘ours’ she had come to see in reality.

“Never disgusted,” she muttered under her breath before heading off to the store and purchasing everything she needed. Clarice found her way to Saks and moved leisurely through the departments finding Hannibal in the lingerie department.

“Find something you like, Robert?” Sounding amused, but leaving the ‘o’ at the end off intentionally. She didn’t care for the name and much preferred his own, but appearance now was everything.

Once in Saks, Hannibal completely skipped the Mens Department. He had a feeling Clarice would be swift in Under Armour; she knew what she liked when it came to running shoes. He walked leisurely around the lingerie department, not looking for anything peculiar, just waiting for something to catch his eye. 

The Doctor had not actually bought Clarice any risqué lingerie. Panties, bras and a couple of sleeping negligees, yes but nothing specifically for his viewing pleasure. _Soon we will be in Paris and I can lavish her with specialty boutique lingerie but yet…_

He stopped in front pleated see-through negligee that rested mid-thigh with satin ribbon trim and stain ribbon straps, the matching thong was satin, not see through. It was all eggplant purple. _Yes, black is classic for lingerie but that can wait till specialty boutiques in Paris…_ He took a size small off the rack and held it out to look at. He knew exactly why he was drawn to this color, _her_ color, and yet he couldn’t force himself to hang it up and grab the red version. 

Too late, Clarice was here sounding amused. He turned to face her and her smile melted his anxiety. 

“I did. I was hoping to hold off until Paris but it appears seven years has made me eager.” He held up the eggplant purple negligee, “Care to humor, Roberto?”

“Seven years would kill an average man,” she laughed, “…I can appreciate eager. Wearing something nice for both of our enjoyment would not require me humoring you, Robert.”

Clarice turned her full attention to the garment held up to her, her eyes scanned up and down the lingerie as her fingertips grazed lightly over the material. It was nice enough, seemed to lack something she couldn’t put her finger on. It was a substitute maybe for what he really wished to see her in.

“I’m surprised by your choice of color,” done looking at the negligee she looked fully at Hannibal, “I would have thought your would have picked emerald for my skin tone, but it you feel amethyst will look alluring I don’t see any harm in getting something less utilitarian than the items I have now.”

The fact that the lingerie Hannibal purchased for her was luxurious, and quality but not by any stretch of the imagination sexy, only functional, did not escape her notice. Their coupling had seemed to expand his desire for something that could be considered the equivalent of a pretty bow to be removed from a much desired package. Her eyes could have almost have seemed to twinkle as the thought crossed her mind.

“I should probably find some surprises in Paris for us both to enjoy.” Dangling that little morsel for Hannibal to savor. “Until then we should get this. I’ll try it on for you at home.”

“Black is always the classic choice for lingerie,” Hannibal fingered the ribbon edge of the negligee. “Always beautiful, always in style and what I hope you will choose in Paris. However…” He looked directly at the negligee, “I just really love purple. I want to see you in it.” 

He had told Clarice about Mischa and the cruel way she had died. He hadn’t told her about Mischa and her eggplants and how to this day he still held that specific shade of purple dear. The Doctor still wanted something of Mischa’s his alone, at least for the time being. But he also wanted this, to see Clarice in this skimpy thing that was the same color his sister loved. Maybe it would sweep away those last few lingering pieces of his original ill-thought plan for Clarice.

Dr. Lecter looked at her and smiled, “Let me go pay for this and then to secure our trunks.” He knew Clarice would probably question him as she “tried on the piece at home” but he would cross that bridge when he got there. At least he would get to see her in it.

“Hmm,” the sound amused as it hiccuped from Clarice as Hannibal scurried off to make his purchase. 

There would be time for questions when she was wearing the lingerie and had him at home and in a position where he would be compelled to answer.


	8. A Connection

Their steamer trucks locked securely in the back of their truck thanks in part to the camper top, Hannibal gladly drove away from the mall and towards their final stop, his connection. It was an average looking house in an average looking DC suburb. He killed the engine and looked right in her eyes, “Clarice, I want you to understand one thing before we enter. This man has been good to me for many decades, he is about to be very good to you. Remember this. I have to because I do not agree with some of what he does.”

Clarice had enjoyed the ride over with Hannibal. He was in a good mood and she suspected he was looking forward to her promised private modeling career. A thought that made her smile.

She met Hannibal at the back of the truck and took his arm as she glanced up at the house. The home was a small bungalow. It looked neat and modest,unassuming, but by DC standards it was probably worth a small fortune. It gave no sign that forgeries and fraud occurred with in. 

It was Hannibal’s warning that made her head swing back to him with the same speed she had turned on Jame Gumb in the dark when she heard the cocking of his Colt Python.

“What does he do other than create forgeries?” Knowing that she would have to find a way to let it go even if she was revolted. They both needed him if they wanted to make an easy escape.

“It’s all forgeries,” Hannibal open the truck doors and got out. He continued the conversation as they walked up. “It’s just that he also trades in ones I don’t believe in. You’ll see.”

The Doctor knocked on the door once. A pause. Then three times. A pause. Then five times. A code among thieves. A few minutes later a bald man about the height of Hannibal opened the door he smiled, “It’s been a while. I almost forgot that code. Come in.”  
Hannibal and Clarice walked into the hallway and the man locked the door back up behind him. “You know you put me in a bit of a bind, Hannibal,” The man walked forward and led them into a living room. “You should have given me her name sooner. You’re a great client but you aren’t my only one.”

In the living room Hannibal’s warnings became apparent. Leaning against walls were canvas of paintings in the styles of the masters: Van Gogh, Renoir, Picasso, Monet. On one of the tables, letters made to look antique. He picked an manila envelope up off of the coffee table and smiled at Clarice.

“Clarice Starling, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” he handed her the envelope. “Or shall I say Malone Fletcher. If only some of your former colleagues knew who’s living room you were standing in right now.”

Starling couldn’t shed all of her old habits. Head swiveled fast. She checked the corners as they entered the home. Her hand sweeping to her hip finding it devoid of her trusty 1911 with skateboard tape. Her jaw clenched in annoyance and she followed the men to the living room.

Calmly eyes slowly scanned over the multitude of art. She recognized a few pieces, but most of the others she didn’t. They were lesser known works of those artists that would have been found in private collections across the globe. Easier to steal from those collections, replace with a fake and sell the original on the black market. From what she could tell, the quality of the work was impeccable. The sort of fake that only could be determined by carbon dating or other means.

A long low exhale escaped her as her eyes settled on the master forger. She took the offered envelope and looked inside and removed it to study it carefully. It was a Canadian Passport and birth certificate. Something she had not expected but could use to more easily to build a credible backstory. Born in Calgary, Canada. A smiled flickered momentarily over her face. Calgary was only 7.5 hours from Bozeman and her cousin had mentioned dealings with ranchers there. She’d be able to figure something out, but she did need to read up on her birth city. She supposed she moved when she was young to the US.

“Mrs. Fletcher will do,” she said sternly. Without flinching, she placed the items in her handbag, “and I don’t know your name, but I’ve heard a great deal about your work over the years. I have no interest in helping any former colleagues but you should know at least 2 of your accounts in Panama are being watched.” She was not pleased, but she was well aware of maintaining this sort of valuable contact.

_At least he doesn’t fucking kill and skin people._

It was her only solace. No lives lost. She would bet that other than paint and ink he’d never gotten his hands dirty. “I do hope that bit of information helps to ease the burden of being inconvenienced.” Giving him an unblinking look she saved for interrogations of hardened criminals that said, he should just say thank you and move on.

The man laughed and then looked over at Hannibal, “You got a spitfire here, Hannibal. I can see why you pined over her for seven years.”

Hannibal glared at the man and tried to avoid Clarice in his peripheral. He knew he would hear about this tonight as well.

The man then picked up another envelope and handed it to Hannibal, “What you wanted. Best of luck to the both of you and you know how to reach me if you ever need anything else. And thanks for the tip, Clarice.”

The ride home was mostly silence but Hannibal finally placed one of his hands on Clarice’s knee and spoke at a red light, “That was the grim side of the life we are to live, Clarice. Necessary evil. Speaking of which, I made a promise to you today but don’t think I won’t break it for a second if we are threatened. No dinners of course, I’m trying to keep a low profile after all.” He smiled at her; he hoped she caught the joke and sincerity in the last half.

Clarice didn’t enjoy being talked about as if she wasn’t there but tolerated the forger for what he had to offer. That was it. After she imparted the tid-bit that would likely save his hide from jail and his assets from being frozen she shut up. It was one instance that stirring the pot would get her absolutely nowhere. Perhaps being around Hannibal’s cool and calculating demeanor was having a positive effect.


	9. Purple Negligee

Back home, The Doctor situated one trunk in Clarice’s room and the other in his. He changed into his favorite loungewear and slippers before heading into the living room. He poured himself a glass of cognac, lit a cigar, put on his favorite Handel CD before flopping down into his favorite leather chair.

“Yes,” Dr. Lecter whispered to himself before taking a drag off of the cigar. “A lovely end to a busy day. Clarice, I know that trunk is lovely but you can pack tomorrow, come join me for a night cap,” he called out. He sat the cigar on the ash tray, swirled his drink and brought it to his nose before taking a sip. Hannibal then closed his eyes, sighed and smiled as he leaned back in his chair. _Yes, Clarice and I spending several days at the Louvre should override that horrible forged artwork._

Starling worked efficiently in her room. She had more than her fair share of experience with packing up everything she had and moving some place new. She sighed softly at the thought. She liked that even though she was moving again, she already felt home.  
Clarice had nearly completed filling the trunk when she first caught the scent of the cigar coming down the hall. She closed the truck and brushed her hands lightly over the top with admiration. The engagement ring sparkled. She was pretty sure the two gifts today were now the nicest things she owned.

Hannibal called from the other room and a smile curled the corners of her mouth. The amethyst lace negligee was laid out on the bed where she placed it once arriving home. It would be much more alluring adorning her instead of the bed. She slipped it on and made her way down the hall. It took just enough time to leaving him wondering and wanting her presence even more.

“Happy you purchased it?” Walking casually into the room and took the seat next to him. She wasn’t the type to twirl…even for Hannibal Lecter. She waited expectantly for the drink she was invited for and wondered how long it would take him to notice she had forgone the panties.

Dr. Lecter heard and smelt Clarice enter the room but he did not open his eyes. He hummed to the music, still thinking of Louvre and all the ways he would surprise her by telling her the Mona Lisa is overrated. He did however open his eyes upon hearing her speak. He perked right up and cocked his head her direction. His maroon eyes devoured the purple, eggplant purple. 

_A little girl in a copper tub smiled at him but reached out beyond to those funny shaped veggies in the garden. He blew bubbles at her, she laughed. The door on this room of his memory palace blew open. The Doctor ran over and slammed it shut._

He got up out of his chair and walked over to Clarice. He smiled softly as he ran his fingers down her cheek, ‘Whiskey, right?” He then walked over to the table with the small bar and poured her glass. “Just think in two more days we’ll be gone, Clarice. It’ll be queer leaving the chrysalis as two changed individuals but it will also be thrilling.” He walked back over to her and handed her the glass. “New lives for both of us; you on the other side of the law, me sharing this lifestyle with a companion…”Hannibal eyed Clarice up and down as she brought the glass to her lips and stretched her legs out raising the already short hem of the negligee. 

The door pushed open and he stood watching the scene:

_“No Mischa!” Hannibal exclaimed chasing after her, towel in hand. Water dripped down her chubby little legs as she ran away laughing._

_“Young Master!” The nurse exclaimed chasing after him, knocking over the copper tub in the process. “You said you could handle her! If your mother finds out…”_

_Her little wet feet quickly collected dirt as she grabbed eggplant, still on the vine and held on. When he reached her, he couldn’t help but laugh as she smiled at him. “If only that eggplant was bigger, Mischa you could wear it as a dress.”_

Dr. Lecter shook his head as that door slammed shut. Never again. That was past and this was present. Here in his Palace she was safe in front of him was a woman. He lifted his glass of cognac off the table between the chairs and took a swig as he tilted his head and studied Clarice again. Here beyond this purple were the curves of a woman: round breasts with firm nipples behind lace and peeking out below that hemline neatly trimmed pubic hair. His eyebrows arched. _Where were the satin panties, Clarice?_

He gave her a wink and a smirk as he sat back down. “I adore the purple on you, Clarice. It might not be your color but it’s given me what I wanted,” He sat his glass down and picked the cigar back up. He took a puff, “You know, Clarice. I love that you don’t shave. It catches your scent, allows it to linger, allows me to enjoy it.”

“TMI, Hannibal,” Clarice said dryly and took a sip of the whiskey as her eyes sparkled with amusement, “TMI….or should I continue to call you Robert…or Roberto?” Emphasizing the trilled R when she said the name the second time. The cut crystal tumbler settling comfortably into her palm. A smile broke across her face. She wondered if he would understand the comment. He could seem so distant from reality and old-fashioned. A bar she felt like she had trouble reaching. What did he see?

She was truly enjoying herself, and it had been much too long since she had felt this way. Her mind drifting briefly to what Ardelia would think. That she would be skeptical of this man who was treating her like a princess because the sword of Damocles was surely about to fall. Clarice didn’t see it. She also wasn’t blinded. Instead, the scales had finally fallen from her eyes. Hannibal would allow her to enjoy life. Be enriched by it.

“You know, I don’t know if I can get used to calling you Robert when I’ve never properly been able to call you Hannibal, just, Dr. Lecter.” She looked directly at him then and crossed her legs, the negligee rustled softly. “But that was your choice. What you determined was ‘proper’.” Recalling that first meeting with a bit more fondness than she had initially.

“It’s Hannibal when we are home,” he sat his cigar back on the ashtray. “Say it as many times as you want. I never tire of hearing it. And I do hope you do not hold choices I made years ago against me today. At the time we were not of equal status, I would say things have changed.”

The Doctor picked up his glass and took a sip of his drink as he studied Clarice, she looked relaxed, a content smile on her face but he could not help but notice she had crossed her legs.

“Everything about you right now says bliss, Clarice except your legs,” He swirled his cognac in the tumbler. “Did you not like my being direct? Do you want us to go back to our little games? Or did it remind you of our first meeting all those years ago when Miggs said he could smell your cunt?” He finished his cognac and snuffed out his cigar.

Hannibal got out of his chair and walked over to Clarice, his slippers shuffling on the floor. He bent over her, sliding one of his hands up her thigh and under the negligee. His maroon eyes burned into hers, “I was truthful that day when I said I couldn’t smell your cunt. Your skin cream and the puffs of your perfume from your good bag were all caught. But when you come out here teasing me in the lingerie I chose for you, forgoing the matching panties of course I’m going to smell your cunt. And what kind of man would I be if I didn’t enjoy the pure scent of the woman I love?” He leaned over and kissed Clarice on the forehead, “I’m heading to bed, I will see you in a few minutes.” 

He caressed her thigh as he removed his hand and walked away; a smile on his face. Dr. Lecter already knew he would never tire of such stimulating fun. He just hoped she would join him instead of heading to her bedroom because if so what the point of such teasing?

His hand was so warm where it rested on her thigh. The caress feather light as he withdrew. Clarice had to remind herself to breath again when he left the room. Even when it was easy he didn’t touch her like she was cheap. She knew he respected her but this cemented it. Hannibal truly cherished her.

She took her time and savored the bourbon he’d given her. Savored what she had learned. With her glass empty she finally stood and made her way down the hall to his bedroom; purple lace and ribbon swishing gracefully with each step.

“I never questioned once that you weren’t sincere that day…or ever,” she called after him from the doorway as her shoulder pressed against the jamb, “You never once lied or mislead me. Only gave me the clues to figure it out.” Clarice added and shrug as a brief look of annoyance flitted over her face. “In exchange for information of course.”

She left her post in the doorway without being asked and lightly settled on the bed next to him. “I thought you’d like that there would be less between us from the start.” She leaned in and her lips brushed his ear when she whispered, “taking thinks off can be so tedious.”

“Sometimes it can be fun,” The Good Doctor turned to face her. “But you are correct in sometimes removing items can be tedious.” He pushed the covers down and propped himself up on the pillows to reveal he had removed his lounge wear and had been waiting bare under the covers.

He took her cheek into his hand and smiled large, all his little teeth exposed, “You have me acting a fool, Clarice. What old man lays in wait to show off he is nude and ready for sex?” He leaned over and kissed her passionately. 

“And we can still exchange information,” he rolled to be on top of her. “How about a little bedroom quid pro quo?” He kissed her again before moving his lips to his neck, nibbling lightly. Just the slightest reminder of who she was in bed with. “You tell me things, I’ll tell you things. We’ll save the deeper things for post-coital pillow talk as it’s called.”

Hannibal sat up, straddling her legs and pushed the negligee up, “I already told you Clarice I love that you don’t completely shave because I love the smell of your cunt.” He dipped his head down by her crotch taking a deep breath. The Doctor held it for a few seconds savoring it before exhaling. He smiled, “Ah yes. My favorite sexual positions include from behind because it allows me to penetrate deep and woman on top because it allows me a view of my lover.”

He put his hands on her stomach and pushed the purple lace ribbon up further, “And now what do you want to tell me, Clarice?

The corner of her mouth quirked, amused at the information given so freely and the childlike honesty he expressed and expected in return. Of course she’d reciprocate. It would be foolish not to. It was for her benefit and she knew he would do anything to fulfill her desires, no matter how frivolous she believed them to be.

“I would have to say those two positions…or variations on them are my preference too,” lids lowering to gaze at where the ribbon edge lay across her hips. It marked what seemed to be the ever shifting level of intimacy between them. Soon, it would disappear forever.

Clarice had found that having Hannibal Lecter in her head wasn’t the negative that Jack had let it on to be.

“And I don’t think you’re acting the fool,” wanting to reassure him, her finger tracing lightly down the center of his chest, “you’re not the one dressing up without panties to entice their new beau.”

Hannibal arched his eyebrow, “Entice the beau? You mean I am the first man you have ever dressed up for?” He chuckled, “I think we’re both acting the fool then. However you look ravishing in lace sans panties, I do not think the same can be said for my nude body.”

The Doctor moved his hands so they gently caressed the outside of her thighs. “You know you didn’t really tell me much this round, Clarice. You only agreed that we enjoy the same sexual positions. Speaking of…” He leaned back down so his weight was on top of her body. “We really aren’t in the position for either of those.” He removed his hands from her thighs. He then ran his fingers through her hair, “But I do like the intimacy of this. It allows me easy access to your breast when I am ready to suck.”

He lowered his head to her chest, using his hand not in her hair to push the lace away from one of her breast exposing it. He circled the exposed nipple with his tongue, “You figured out my sexual hang up, Clarice. Just tell me yours.”

“You’re the first man I wanted to entice in earnest,” revealing more about her past with other inconsequential suitors. In hindsight, Clarice felt sorry for Noble Pilcher. He couldn’t compete with the meeting that had occurred in a dank basement days before. He didn’t see her, not the way Lecter had. Of course, Starling would have never admitted it at the time, but she could see it clearly now. The amount of influence that meet had on her, and evidently, equally so, on Hannibal Lecter.

Heavily lidded gaze watched him turn the lace, folding it to expose the pale pink peak. The tip of his tongue circled slowly, as if drawing out her answer. Clarice released a shuddering breath. She wanted to feel the hard draw of his mouth on her breast and a sweet little whine sipped from between her lips as her back arched.

It was hard to answer his question but she forced herself. “I suppose there are a few things…I like the thrill of fucking where I might get caught.” There was a story there if he pried. “I’m not particularly fond of sloppy, wet kisses. You were right. I found them tedious in the back seat of a car, but I’m very fond of being completely naked, but not necessarily in an exhibitionist way. I don’t think there should be any shame in it.” A long history of communal living had eliminated those feelings long ago; other privacy had had been much more tantamount.

Clarice’s body language told him she awaited and wanted the suction of his lips on the taut peak but he lifted his head up, “You really the honey in the lion, Clarice. You enjoy being naked, but not in an exhibitionist way yet like the thrill of fucking where you might get caught. Fucking where you might get caught is better with clothes.” 

Hannibal put his hands on her temples and rubbed gently and purred in her ear, “Let me set a scene, Clarice. A scene we can soon recreate in Paris. We’ll walk home from a night at the opera. You will complain about walking in your new Louboutin kitten heels no matter how amazing they make your legs look.”

The Doctor pushed the covers off of his body and sat up, keeping his hand on her temples, the metallic rasp slightly returned to his voice, “I will tire of hearing your complaining, Clarice. Why didn’t you pack a pair of flats in your purse? I will suggest a shortcut through an alley, even be a gentleman and carry you through it.”

The sheets rustled as Hannibal stood up and scooped Clarice up off the bed. He looked down at her, her eyes still wide from the sudden and unexpected movement. He gave her a leer as he continued his vision, “But I will remember this conversation and what is that I spot, an alcove! Yes that is a backdoor to something but is dark and late. I will slam you against the wall.” 

And Dr. Lecter did just that, hearing her shoulder blades hit but her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. “Get used to having a scraped up back, Clarice. There is lots of cobblestone in Paris. I’ll pull aside the top of your dress just enough to suck your breast for a minute or two.” And he did just that, finally pulling hard on that nipple, rolling it lightly between his teeth before pulling away, “You should know, Clarice when fucking in public foreplay is very limited.”

Hannibal looked her deep in the eyes, “I will unzip my pants, revealing I am erect and ready. I will then raise your skirt just enough to push your panties aside…” His hands went up under the negligee. Sparks flew from his red eyes as he leer turned into a full blown grin, “My, my Clarice, somebody went the whole opera without panties?”

Lips pursed. A moan punctuated with a sweet ‘oh’ as his mouth latched over her breast drawing hard on the tawny peak. Every nerve tingled with electricity with the rhythmic roll of his tongue. Hannibal made want turn to need. A whimper of protest when he withdrew to speak. The simple act had done his job. Clarice was exceedingly aroused, wetness spreading quickly between her bare thighs.

Just as her eyes narrowed at his story. Reaching the part where he was giving her ‘an I told you so’ he whisked her off the bed without even a pause. It was something she always underestimated, his slender and wiry strength. She would bet every single one of his victims had underestimated him too. There was something thrilling to those thoughts when they were so intimately entwined.

Shoulder blades hit first, followed by the rest of her back. Her entire spine pressing against the cold wall. A soft ‘huh’ escaping on an exhale as he pinned her there with is body. Hips rolled into him. She could feel how hard he was pressing into her inner thigh without mercy. Hannibal’s every move and touch made Clarice feel needy and wanton, at the heart of it, aroused by his simple tale. She could see it. The dark alley was here. She could feel the old wooden door with its peeling paint scrape at her back. Her need for him was desperately.

“You like that,” she taunted with a grin on her lips, his hands coming to a stop, finding _exactly_ what he was looking for. Clarice was pleased none the less. “Would knowing that while I sat next to you at the opera be too much of a distraction?” Hips rolling against his hard cock, wanting him to take her hard and fast.

He could feel Clarice’s wetness oozing down onto the head of his cock as she rolled her hips. It was so warm and welcoming, but The Doctor held onto his self-control a bit longer. He moved his hand from under the negligee to the front, taking the hem and pulling it up, over her head and allowing it to flutter to the floor. 

“I would think it would be more of a distraction for you, Clarice. Anxiously awaiting for me to do something with my knowledge of what is under or **not** under your dress. Wondering if I will be rude at the opera and fulfill your thrill of fucking where we might get caught.” He leaned in letting his breath tickle her neck and shoulder, “Your thoughts constantly wandering back to between your thighs instead of the show. Your moisture growing so much you wish you would have worn a pair of your pricey panties because now you are concerned you will make a puddle on the back of your dress.”

Hannibal moved his head over and kissed His Starling passionately as he pushed his hips up and guided her down onto his cock. He stood still for a second allowing her to adjust as he spread his hands wide against the wall for support. “Besides in the dark alcove, we can pretend we are young, drunk lovers indulging in the heat of the moment, instead of an old man and a grown woman.” 

The Doctor thrust hard and fast, each time knocking Clarice against the wall. The mixture this fantasy scene, the intensity of this position, the expected controlled violence against Clarice; if this was to be his new life it was to a be more exhilarating than anything he had previously lived. 

“Clarice…” Hannibal moaned his eyes closing, pausing mid thrust. In this mix of sex and violence he came earlier than he wanted to. He looked up at Clarice, he breathing labored, slightly embarrassed, “I apologize, you in that plum negligee had me worked up ahead of time. Did you at least climax once?”


	10. Pillow Talk Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please note when I was roleplaying Dr. Lecter I took liberties with Hannibal and Lady Murasaki's relationship from "Hannibal Rising" for the sake of backstory.

Clarice moaned against his mouth. Parted lips hovered over his as a shuttering breath escaped and she trembled around him. Fingers clutched his back holding on. Hannibal had managed to slowly heighten her senses during the evening, tantalizing every inch of her until she trembled with anticipation wanting him to begin but enjoying every minute he held out. When he finally took her, it was like being pushed over the edge. A reason to let that bundled core of pleasure go as their bodies finally crashed into one another.

Clarice wouldn’t have said she had an orgasm, but the intensity the pleasure brought by his ruthless rutting felt close, but incomplete.

Sometimes Hannibal’s directness was ill timed. If the last two days were any indication, they would make up for tonight a thousand fold.

“Hannibal…” she whispered softly, “I’m flattered you find me that irresistible.”

The Doctor sighed as he withdrew from her. He ran his hand down his face disappointment in his eyes, “Quid pro quo, Clarice. I owe you one, one that is only your pleasure, I’m afraid not tonight; this old man is tired.” He gently kissed her sweat covered forehead before affectionately wrapping his arms around her and carrying her back to the bed. He gently laid her down on the bed before curling around her body creating a cocoon with the covers.

He softly kissed her neck as he wrapped his arm around her not waiting for permission to hold “his” breast. “Shall we at least continue our game of bedroom quid pro quo, Clarice?” His voice was heavy with exhaustion. “I’ll start and admit not being able to make my partner achieve orgasm every time hurts my pride. But since we were discussing your fantasy of sex in a public place maybe we can dismiss as somebody headed down the alley so we had to stop.”

Hannibal then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and index finger. _The worthiest place. Clarice is worthy of my whole truth and with the basement door of Mischa open, it’s making the opening the other doors of my Memory Palace easier._ “I lost my virginity in Paris when I was 15 to my first love.” 

A soft groan of distraction as he twisted at her breast. Her hand cupped firmly over his to indicate he needed to knock off the teasing, or she couldn’t listen.

She wasn’t the type to keep a tally of who owed who an orgasm. It didn’t make for a good relationship always checking the column for who was in the black and who was in the red. She’d learned that the hard way over the years. She did find it interesting that the doctor placed so much pride in his sexual prowess with her. As much as she cherished, memorizing every moment of every encounter with him thus far, she was far from being a machine that could come on command. His pride would have to adjust. She wasn’t going to fake it. That would be insulting.

“Hannibal Lecter had a first love,” she mused and settled into his arms, “I was sixteen, and Ben was a senior at the boarding school I attended. He was different than most of the other rich kids there. He had things he wanted to accomplish.”  
Clarice shifted slightly to glance at Hannibal, “What was she like?”

Hannibal Lecter could take a hint. He sadly removed his hand from her breast and instead turned it over to intertwine his fingers with hers, “As for my first love…” 

_He walked the familiar halls of his Memory Palace and stopped at her door. For the first time in years, he turned the handle and opened the door. There stood Murasaki in her best kimono, his favorite, her raven black hair down. She raised her head and looked at him._

_“Are you going to tell her the whole truth about us, Hannibal?”_

_“I’ve already told her about Mischa.”_

_“You told her about Mischa before me? You kept her in the basement! I at least got a room on the ground floor.”_

_“That I never visit. You hurt me, Murasaki. You broke a young boy’s heart!”_

_“And you didn’t hurt me, Hannibal? That young boy left a trail of carnage I could not condone. That I could not save you from, no matter how much I loved you!”_

_Hannibal paused and he studied Murasaki intently, “Yes, I will tell her the whole truth about us.”_

The Doctor opened his eyes, “She was beautiful inside and out. Her name was Murasaki; she was my uncle’s wife who had come to Europe from Japan after the war. I first met her after my uncle took me from the orphanage to live with him in Paris. After he died, Murasaki and I stayed together. She might have been older but there was an intellectual connection. She taught me the ways of the Samurai, passed down many generations in her family. But I was young and stupid and had nothing but revenge on my mind; revenge on those who killed Mischa and those who had offended Murasaki. But she didn’t want revenge; I ignored her pleas blinded by rage. And she refused to understand why I did. We broke each other’s heart.” 

Hannibal took a deep breath, he let go of Clarice’s hand before gently running it up her arm, “Maybe if I looked at her as my Aunt things would have been different. But I was a teenage boy, she was beautiful and kind. But alas another tea cup not meant to come back together.”

He closed his eyes and was back in her Memory Palace room. _Murasaki held one of his hands and ran the other down his face, “I could have never been an Aunt to you. Our connection was pulled too tight which is why it snapped. But she understands you in ways I never could. Just visit me, it gets lonely behind this door, I am sure your fighting skills are rusty.”_

_Hannibal kissed her forehead before leaving and closing the door._

He opened his eyes wanting to see Clarice’s face even though his lids were heavy, “Do you want another quid pro quo or shall we sleep?”

Clarice had not imagined such an intimate detail, nor the direction he’d taken. She had expected some tale about a Parisian girl his age, not an older woman that should have had the sense to keep her hands off the young man. It made her curious what he was like as a teenager, compared to how he was now. Was his considerable charm and patience because of the things this Murasaki woman had instilled in him?

Clarice looked down at their fingers laced neatly together and thought carefully about what he said. She guessed that nothing about him was ordinary.

“I’d like to understand this better,” she told him openly. “It’s unusual…. I don’t know why I expected something ordinary like my teenage years in the area of romance.”

The ex-agent closed her eyes and tried to not to imagine him with this woman long before her. She focused instead on the fact that she wanted nothing to do with him. “So…What happened at the hunting lodge…to you and Mischa…she couldn’t accept your desire for revenge? And that’s what tore the two of you apart?” She wondered if had the other woman accepted it, would his life been different? Would the revenge been the end of it? Clarice herself could understand his desire for revenge. It was an old testament justice she could appreciate.

“How old were you when you parted ways?”

Hannibal dropped his head into the pillow. He wasn’t prepared to answer questions about this, and didn’t want to, but he knew he had to. He sighed loudly, “Murasaki witnessed me execute several acts of violence, but the night after I saved her from one of the men who killed Mischa and mutilated him in front of her, she…she told me there was nothing human left inside me to love.” 

Hannibal turned his body so he was on his back, no longer holding Clarice. He stared at the ceiling, “I saw Murasaki once more after that night. I had to say goodbye before I left for America, I had accepted a residency position at John Hopkins. I was 20. Her words haunted me for years. Was there really nothing left in me to love? I met Rachel and she loved me, but anytime somebody would mention marriage or sometimes when I’d hold her after we made love I’d think about how she really couldn’t love me. She didn’t know all of me. I tried to get her to elope with me, but for her all quirks she couldn’t leave the society she knew.”

The Doctor now pulled Clarice up against his chest. He held her tight, “This is why my comment about you finding the human to love in the monster was important to me. After all these years, somebody found something inside me to love, somebody who knew all of me.”  
He kissed Clarice’s forehead, “I hope all this helps. And that you will ask no more of me tonight, Clarice.”

He’d imparted more than she ever expected. Usually he would relay personal information parsed up into bits. Little tiny bites for Clarice to swallow and slowly digest but tonight had been at though the flood gates had been allowed to open she she was expected to drink from a fire hose. It was far too much to keep up with. She wasn’t sure that it helped, but it explained volumes.

Eyes fluttered shut as if to hold it all in and absorb it whole.

_Love. Abandonment. Wanting to have a normal life. Escape._

Clarice could relate to all of it. She could relate to Hannibal.

“I never thought you were a monster, Hannibal,” her head bowed so she spoke into his chest, “just a man….a complex man, because a monster was an over simplification meant to scare people. And I didn’t want to be scared of you. I wanted to understand you.”

“I am sure you have an idea of the number of people who have wanted to understand me over the years; other world renowned psychiatrists wanting to write books, grad students wanting to make me their dissertation, Crawford wanting to make my profile his crown jewel of the BAU…” The Doctor relaxed his body into the plush bed but still kept his arms wrapped around his Starling. “Understanding me is something reserved only for those who are equally interesting and intelligent.” He kissed her forehead again, “Good night, Clarice.” 

The corner of Clarice’s mouth twitched as his lips pressed to her forehead. He found her equally interesting and intelligent. Deep down she knew that, but it was a delight to hear, making her heart soar a little higher than before.


	11. A New Start

He woke later than he wanted to. Clarice was still in bed and he smiled to himself. She looked so peaceful and it was so nice to see her relaxed. He leaned over and lightly kissed her on the cheek before whispering, “No breakfast in bed this morning, Clarice. you’ll have to join me in the dining room.”

The Doctor found his pajama bottoms and put those on, tying his dressing robe on over his torso. He hoped Clarice wouldn’t be too disappointed with the remainder of the quiche from yesterday as he sat two places at the table. As the coffee brewed, he gathered a pile of paperwork from his office and sat down. Clarice’s new passport was on top of the pile. He opened it and smiled. _This is the last time you’ll ever to do this, Hannibal. No more name changes, we will settle down after our honeymoon, no more killing, no more running. I will get some more plastic surgery, Clarice will dye her hair. All my money in one place…our money._

It was at that moment he heard her footsteps behind him, “Thank you for joining me, Clarice. Coffee is almost done. I hope you are not too upset for having to leave the bed.”

Arms wrapped loosely around Hannibal from behind as Clarice peered over his shoulder at the papers spread out before him. She bent her head and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll survive a day sitting at a table with you,” Clarice purred softy in his ear, “also you can make it up to me with an extravagant breakfast in bed when we get to Paris.”

She wondered if he was worried about his choice. Worried about trusting her with so much. His freedom was his greatest prize, and Clarice worried that it would be her that could possibly be the cause of him losing it. She had never lived on the lam.

Clarice rested her chin on his shoulder and looked at her new passport. A wave of terror enveloped her. The FBI and Interpol had so much more in resources they ever would. “I’m a little scared,” she whispered being completely honest with Hannibal, “I don’t want to ruin this.”

Hannibal rested his cheek on her hand, “I would be worried if you weren’t a little scared, Clarice. I know we made tremendous progress, but I would be fooling myself if I believed I dug out every last bit of Papa and Crawford that fast. You will soon stop seeing it as living on the wrong side of the law and see it just as living. Living the life you…no _we_ deserve.”

He lifted his face and pulled her around so she was sitting on his lap, “Life never gives, it often takes as you and I have both experienced. So I learned you too have to take what you want, or at least try.” The Doctor ran his fingers through her hair, “You are not going to ruin this, Clarice. I would rather return to that basement dungeon than continue to be free without you.”

He said these things to reassure her, to reassure himself. Not since Murasaki had a woman truly known him. Clarice was here with open arms but during those many decades between he grew accustomed to being alone, to freedom. To anchor himself to Clarice felt right, but he knew it made him more vulnerable than ever. She could still turn him in. 

But had she not taken risks as well? She left Ardelia behind, her best friend, the only person who ever treated Clarice like family without so much as a word. She trusted this cannibal serial killer not to kill and eat her, but to only love and care for her.

Hannibal pulled some paperwork up from under her passport, “Remember last night while out I said I would merge all my funds into a joint account? I did. It took some time; turns out one bank went out under and sold one of my accounts to a bank I had an account under a different name at. And employees remember clients with accounts as big as mine.” 

He then wrapped one arm around her waist and with his other hand, gave her a pen, “You just need to sign Malone Fletcher to these pages, we’ll return them to the bank today, along with what’s left of the cash from Margot and everything will be set so you can bleed me dry before returning to turn me in.” Hannibal chuckled but there was a slight nervousness he knew Clarice would pick up. The walls he spent years constructing were crumbling fast and he was helping her tear them down. 

“Don’t tell me not to do this, Clarice,” He now whispered in her ear. “And don’t hesitate to sign because you think this makes you a kept woman. I love your fiery independence and I could never deny you the means to access it, even if it means I must put myself at risk just as you did, saving me…and being here.” He pulled her tight against his upper body.

Clarice leaned into his touch cradled there on his lap. He was as nervous as she was, but for different reasons. She heard his nervous laugh and saw the offered pen. She took it in hand and signed the documents without question just like he asked. Her earlier practice writing Malone Fletcher coming in handy. The signature looked effortless. Clarice had no desire to be difficult with him when it came to their finances. It was something she knew she would have to accept; as hard as that was. She took a deep breath and exhaled, releasing the twinge of fear that meant she was less independent than before even though the world now felt laid at her feet in a way it never was before.

The fact that he shared his wealth with her so effortlessly made her realize it was not his focus, or the thing he truly cared about in this particular transaction. He cared only for her comfort and wanted to show he trusted her. It was a big show of trust on his part. Everything he had to maintain his freedom. _Did she rank hire than that?_ He was willing to risk it all. It was an odd sensation to be offered so much without asking for anything in return. Nothing to seal the deal and make her in debt to him. The realization gave her that breathless sensation that made her chest feel cold and hollow.

“I…I wouldn’t do that,” sounding like she was catching her breath, “I don’t want to turn you in. I couldn’t bear to lose you now. Not after everything we’ve been through. I’ll do my best to not feel beholdin’ to you…as long as you do your best to stop questioning my motivation to stay.”

Hannibal leaned forward and rested his head on his Starling’s shoulder, “We are beholden to each other, Clarice. I once wrote to you and said that some of our stars were the same; I could not have spoken truer words. Now the rest of the quiche should be finished heating up, let me go get it.” 

*******

The Doctor washed the breakfast dishes by hand, Clarice helping him dry and return them to the cabinets. “I shall miss this kitchen. For one of not my own design or choosing it has been almost perfect.” He looked around the room and then back at Clarice, “I will be attending to domestic affairs today. My landlord has been the upmost kind gentleman and with the exception of the ‘meat’ in the deep freezer; I would like the leave the house as I found it.”

Hannibal leaned up against the counter smiling at and observing Clarice. Never in his life would he have thought he could have found himself on the verge of contentment in domestic bliss. Then again never did he imagine a little FBI trainee would turn his world upside down and make him risk everything he held dear for the stupidest of human emotions, love.

He finally leaned over and took one of her hands when she put the towel down, “I promise we will have cleaning staff once a week wherever we end up but for today do you want to put your FBI training to the test and see exactly how much forensic evidence we can remove washing sheets, towels and whatever else we’ll no longer be using? We’ll move everything we’re taking of ours into the master bedroom since we’ll be here a couple more days. While you start that, I need to make a few phone calls, get my harpsichord and theremin moved into storage under a different alias until we are settled. I truly do not want to buy them again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter for this roleplay story. Lionessamiele and I did write a bit more but I did not save it into a chapter format and it does not have a real stopping point like this does. So this is the end. I hope you all enjoyed it. I LOVE comments so if you could kindly leave some, thank you!


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